


The Road Back Home

by CatelynTsukino



Series: GoT based stories [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Asshai (ASoIaF), Daenerys Targaryen Lives, Dark Bran Stark, Evil Bran Stark, F/M, Gen, Jaime Lannister Lives, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28844991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatelynTsukino/pseuds/CatelynTsukino
Summary: Jaime wakes up on a boat with a pregnant Cersei by his side and absolutely NO memories of ever leaving Winterfell. As the twins go further east to escape certain death, he finds out the loved ones he left behind are in more danger than he could have imagined.Because the Three-Eyed Raven is not the realm's savior—he's the realm's doom.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Cersei Lannister & Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister & Daenerys Targaryen, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Sansa Stark & Brienne of Tarth, Tormund Giantsbane & Jon Snow
Series: GoT based stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120760
Comments: 82
Kudos: 96





	1. Volantis

**Author's Note:**

> If the tags did not clue you in enough, this fic is centered around the idea that Bran/3ER is evil and the mastermind behind everything that went wrong in GoT's ending. Furthermore, I took the subtheory that Bran is not really Bran, but Bloodraven who took over him. I also adopted the headcanon that Drogon took Daenerys to be ressurected by Kinvara.  
> As with every GoT-based fic of mine, this features book elements—notably, the presence of Shiera, Bloodraven's more detailed backstory, and places not mentioned or glossed over in show continuity.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why in the world is Jaime in a boat with his sister when he could have been spending his time with Brienne?  
> When you find out, please tell him, because he's desperate to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, normally I'd rate this T, but in the end I gave it a M rating not because of smut (which there won't be), but because Jaime is horny and missing Brienne.

He wakes up to the sound of ocean waves, the feel of a soft breeze on his cheeks, and the sight of his sister looming above him.

 _What in seven hells is going on? Am I still asleep?_ Just a while ago, he was in Winterfell, going for a walk after fulfilling his (admittedly feeble) duties while waiting for his favorite time of the day: just after supper, when both he and Brienne can excuse themselves to their chambers only to go together to hers—where any and all pretense of secrecy is broken the moment he makes her scream his name for everyone in that bloody castle to hear.

He really wants to know how he ended up with his vile of a sister when he was living in pure fucking bliss a nap ago. When did he even fall asleep? His last memory is of standing outside the castle, approaching Brienne and Lady Sansa.

"Jaime", his sister's voice calls him. He blinks and tries to sit up, feeling a sharp pain on his stomach. "Don't move", she warns him as he lays back down. "The bleeding stopped, but the wound is still open."

Which wound?

He doesn't realize he's asked that out loud until she answers. "You said it was Euron, but didn't give me any further details before passing out. Don't you remember?"

Her voice is oddly neutral—it isn't sweet like it used to be, back when things were simpler, neither it is venomous like it's been in their last days. "I don't even remember getting to you, to be honest", he replies, because what else can he say? He has no energy to try to pretend he has any idea of what is going on.

"What, exactly, do you remember?"

He turns to her. She's wearing Lannister crimson, unlike the black he's seen her in since Tommen's death; from what he can see, her dress is a bit torn on its skirt. "I was in Winterfell", he states, not wanting to get into any details with _Cersei_ of all people. He may have been proud to mark Brienne as his to the Starks and their household, but he will keep her from his sister for as long as he can.

She frowns. "I'm not sure how much I can help you", she says dryly. "You showed up in the Red Keep as it crumbled under the Dragon Whore's fire." _What?_ "You dragged me across tunnels I've never seen and led me to this very boat. You said we'd wait for the first ship to Essos to come. When I noticed you bleeding, all you said was that it'd been Euron's fault, and that you killed him."

 _At least that bastard is dead, by my hands no less._ That's the only remotely good thing from Cersei's little speech—or the one that makes any sense, anyway. "Daenerys Targaryen set the Red Keep on fire?", he asks first, because maybe she knows at least that.

She scowls. "From what I've seen in the distance, she set fire to the _whole city_ with her dragon. Is that the kind of queen our brother allied himself to?"

"You're the one to talk", he spats. "Or did you forget that you burned the Sept of Baelor?"

"Well, clearly the Dragon Whore decided to upstage me. I hope you did not lend your support to her while in Winterfell."

He doesn't remember even _talking_ to the Targaryen girl after his sort-of trial. "What drove her to do it? She seemed… sane enough in Winterfell." Maybe _sane_ was too good of a term, but… she looked _stable_. Not that he paid much attention to her, busy as he was trailing after Brienne.

"I wish I knew", she replies dryly. "I didn't see the whole battle. Ser Gregor and Qyburn were to escort me to safety, but then the Hound showed up, and they began to fight. Qyburn tried to intervene and got smashed, so I just slipped out. You found me not long after, and the walls were already crumbling. It's a miracle we made it out at all."

The Hound and the Mountain facing each other makes sense to him; the two brothers hated each other—although Jaime did not expect the undead Clegane to remember Sandor enough to hold a grudge against him. Well, it's not the most important part of the story. "What about Tyrion?"

"He tried to negotiate, I'll give him that. Not that I was going to accept."

"You'd rather perish inside the Red Keep than give it to another."

If she notices his harsh tone, she doesn't show. "Euron had killed one of her dragons and captured her closest advisor—what was her name…?"

Miss—something, he remembers vaguely, but won't tell her. "What did you do, Cersei?"

"I executed her in front of the Dragon Whore", she replies coldly. "In hindsight, it may not have been my smartest move."

"Oh, you _think_?" Stupidest Lannister might he be, but even Jaime would know not to taunt the Mad King's daughter like that.

She looks away and says nothing. He sighs; nothing she said explains to him why he's here. There _is_ one thing he can think of, though. "The baby?", he asks.

"I haven't bled", she replies quietly, turning back to him. "So I suppose it's fine."

He lowers his eyes to her belly. It's not showing from where he lays, but it could be just because she's sitting down. _Maybe I went there to rescue the baby_ , he thinks. _I'd not dare save Cersei, not after all she's done, but perhaps I thought saving our child was worth the effort._ Has he ever told Brienne about his sister's pregnancy? He can't remember. _She'd help me if she knew. Could this be a plan made by the both of us?_

He knows his sister lives on borrowed time. Sooner or later she will be found and executed. All he needs to do is to keep her alive long enough to give birth, and then keep himself alive to raise the child. The latter part may not be so difficult; the Starks allowed him to stay in Winterfell for however long he wanted, even though one of them is crippled precisely because of him. Daenerys Targaryen may not be fond of him, but Tyrion is, so he might bargain for his life. Of course, he'd have to give up his titles, but he never cared much for them in the first place—especially if he managed to convince Brienne to marry him. Has he asked her before leaving? _Surely I told her how I feel, at least. I'd not leave for such a risky mission without letting her know I love her._

It's surreal to reflect on his history with Brienne and how far they've come. When he first laid eyes on her, back on that night, chained up in a cell for a year, he'd never have guessed he'd fall in love with the giantess who looked at him with scorn. He'd never have imagined her looking at him any differently—least of all with the awe of being discovered and seen, like in their first night together.

Of course, back then he'd never dare see himself loving anyone other than Cersei, but things changed, and his perception of the world and those around him shifted as well. His time with Brienne lifted a curtain in his eyes, enabling him to see people for who they were—notably his father and sister. It took time, and some relapses, but eventually he freed himself from Cersei's grasp. He'd never go back to her if he could help it, so the only plausible explanation for his current predicament is his concern for his unborn child.

Another sharp pain pulls him from his thoughts, and he sends a prayer to whatever gods are listening. He won't be able to save his child if he bleeds to death. Then, lulled by the slow and rhythmic rocking of the waves on the boat, he falls back asleep.

* * *

He wakes up again in a cabin, lying down on an actual bed. He looks down to see his abdomen bandaged. From the corner of his eye, he sees Cersei walking to him. "Luckily we found a ship with healers inside", she tells him, "and whose captain cares nothing for who we are in Westeros."

"Where are we heading to?"

"Lys, and then Volantis. I was going to ask you where you think we should stay."

He turns his head in her direction. She's standing now, and her belly still doesn't look as swollen as he expects. Suddenly it occurs to him…

"It isn't mine, is it?", he asks, huffing. She straightens up defensively, but he's too tired for a fight. "Just… tell me how many moons."

She hesitates. "Two", she states quietly.

Definitely not his, then. He only laid with Cersei once after her coronation; had his seed quickened in her womb, she'd be five moons pregnant. Not showing when he left, but surely now.

He doesn't bother voicing the obvious; instead, he goes for more practical matters. "Then it's safer if we go as east as we can before you give birth."

She nods stiffly. "Volantis, then."

* * *

When they finally reach the city, Cersei is beginning to show. It's subtle, and he doubts he'd notice if he hadn't committed the sight of her pregnant body to memory before, but it's there. He finds no news of Westeros, but he finds a man willing to send a letter to Winterfell with part of the coin he got after selling his golden hand—Cersei didn't like that he did it, but shut up when he asked how else they're supposed to get money. He sits down and, careful to not mess up his penmanship, begins to write:

_My beloved Brienne,_

_I write to let you know I'm safe and sound in Volantis with Cersei, though not without some bad news to deliver._

_First of all, it seems that I've forgotten all of my journey from Winterfell to King's Landing, as well as any plans made beforehand. I wish I could actually wait for your reply so you can enlighten me, but Cersei and I decided to sail as farthest east as possible before she gives birth. We still don't know our next destination, given Daenerys Targaryen's history in Slaver's Bay, but we won't stay here long enough for a reply of yours._

_My last memories are of seeing you and Sansa talking in the yards. Did we make some plan for me to sneak Cersei to safety until she gives birth? I tried to think of any plausible reason for waking up in a boat alongside her after spending a whole month waking up next to you, and this unborn child is all I've found. Oh, if only I had you by my side to remind me what we planned._

_I do wonder why my memory fails me. I woke up with a bleeding injury in my stomach, but, as far as I know, memory loss comes from head injuries instead, and I've got none of those. Perhaps I've gone away inside? It makes sense that I'd retreat myself in order to face my sister once again, away from you. I don't think I've ever talked about this method of mine in detail to you, have I? I'll tell you when I get back, I promise. It's nothing you should concern yourself with._

_I hope things are well for you and Lady Sansa. Cersei told me she saw the whole capital burning under Daenerys' dragon (apparently Jon Snow's was killed by Euron?). There's been no news of Westeros here, so I can only pray you are indeed in Winterfell, safe in the bloody North._

_I don't remember telling you this, although I must have, so I'll tell you here and now in this letter:_ _ **I love you**_ _, Brienne. Don't let this little quest make you doubt my devotion to you. Whatever this plan is, I'm only here for the child_ — _which, second bad news, is not even mine, but Euron's. As soon as the baby is born, I'll find my way back to you. I wish to marry you, my lady Ser, if you'll have this old, crippled man with no prospects and nothing to give you but his heart._

_I miss you already. Can't wait to get back to you._

_Yours,_

_Jaime Lannister._

* * *

Cersei finds a small inn near the docks, which he finds perfect for their purposes, but they are still found—though not by anyone he ever expected.

The woman standing at their room's door is dressed all in red—a red priestess then, just like the one who fought in Winterfell. "Cersei and Jaime Lannister", she says quietly, as if knowing those names are not safe to be said too loudly. "I come here in peace."

He hears Cersei growl, but decides to give this woman a chance. "Say what you have to say then. I won't let you in, though."

She nods. "Very well. My name is Kinvara, and I'm a servant of—"

"The Lord of Light, I know. I've seen people like you where I come from. Say your piece, my lady."

"I've seen… _things_. In the flames. Regarding your future, and the ones of those you hold dear. And of Westeros."

His jaw clenches. "What do you know of those I hold dear?"

Her voice drops to a whisper so low, not even his sister hears. "Brienne of Tarth."

His hand closes in a fist. "Spill it out", he hisses.

"She is in danger, just like most of the realm." She sighs. "I saw it after—we've recovered a dead body in our temple. Like you, it is someone whose life crumbled before their eyes, to the point they cannot remember how things ended so badly."

He doesn't like what he hears, but something inside him tells him she's right. Didn't he hate it when he woke up to see Cersei's face instead of Brienne's? Whatever his memory doesn't tell him, it probably isn't something he'd like to remember, but Kinvara's words make him wonder whether his memory gap includes something far worse than he thought. "And what does it have to do with Brienne? Is it her?"

"No, it's someone else. But all of this—their death, your current predicament, the danger Brienne is under—it's all connected to a person you must bring down."

He frowns. "We are in _Volantis_. How am I supposed to bring down someone in _Westeros_?"

Her eyes are wide. "Go to Asshai", she says. "And ask to meet the Oracle. She is the one who warned me of your arrival through the flames, and of your importance. I do ask you to bring the recovered life along, though. You must unite to defeat the enemy."

This is not new for him; he's gone to Winterfell following the same philosophy. "Who is this person?"

"I'll bring them to you tomorrow morning."

"Deal."

* * *

When he arrives in the inn's main hall to find Kinvara sitting beside _Daenerys Targaryen_ , he's very glad that he left Cersei in the room. "You _died_?"

Her expression is vacant, and there are heavy bags under her eyes. "Apparently, yes", she replies dully. "I have a scar on my stomach, which is from the injury that killed me."

He sits down between the two women. "How—"

"I don't know" she replies dryly, interrupting him. "My memories after the Long Night are all fuzzy. I… I see flashes, but not enough to understand." She glances at Kinvara, then back at him. "She says we should unite as allies once again."

"That's what I've been told, too", he replies, glancing at the red priestess. "Do you trust her?"

"I've met her before", she answers, nodding. "I do believe she's on my side, and therefore ours."

He sighs. "I'm with Cersei", he tells her, because it's better to tell than to show. "I'm suffering from memory loss just like you, so I don't remember how I ended up sacked with her after everything, _but_ I believe I'm here for her child."

She raises her eyebrows. "I didn't know she was pregnant."

"My brother didn't tell you?" He shrugs. "Then again, back when she told me—and him—she wasn't _actually_ with child. It was just a ploy to keep me under her thumb and make Tyrion hesitate to act against her."

Daenerys frowns. "But she is now?"

He nods. "Euron Greyjoy. I realized it when the size of her belly didn't match her supposed stage of pregnancy."

The Targaryen woman bites her lip, clearly unsure of what to say. "Do you know anything of… my fate?"

He shakes his head. "All I know is what Cersei told me. She said— _you_ got your dragon burning King's Landing down. We almost died getting out of the Red Keep because it was crumbling under the fire."

The moment the words get out of his mouth, he finds himself wishing he had found a better way to say them. The once queen buries her face under her hands and begins to _cry_. "I didn't want to be Queen of Ashes", she says between sobs. "I truly didn't. I just wanted to go back _home_."

Suddenly she looks impossibly young, almost like Myrcella when she found out she would go back to King's Landing. His mind jumps to the moments before her death, when she told him to be glad he's her father. It makes his heart squeeze in pain. "I'm sorry", he offers weakly.

Seemingly ignorant of what he said, she turns to Kinvara. "What—what are we supposed to do? Who is this common enemy, and how are they any worse than… _me_?"

Gods, he can almost hear himself in her self-loathing tone. "Like I told you yesterday", the red priestess replies gently, "go to Asshai."

He shifts on his seat. "Who is this Oracle you speak of? How can she help us?"

"She is many things. A… what is it that you call? Greenseer. She can see the future better than I do, although the future is malleable—different choices result in different outcomes, and all that. She can get inside a living being's mind, though she cannot interact, only see. She _can_ control some aspects of nature, though. It is her who grants _some_ sunlight to the Shadowlands—I'm not sure how much you know about the region, but the mountains there are placed in a way that blocks the sun all year round. Only her magic makes things a bit better."

Some of her powers remind him of Bran Stark's, though he never quite understood what the boy had become after Jaime pushed him down. Despite having spent a month in Winterfell, he rarely saw him outside the godswood, so they didn't interact much. "You said she was the one to warn you of the dangers in Westeros", he reminds the red priestess, because the list she gave doesn't cover that part.

"Yes, she can do that. I suppose it comes with her control of nature elements—she sought me out through the flames, after all."

He does not understand magic, so he decides to trust the red woman in this aspect. Daenerys nods, as if this is a very logical explanation—he supposes she knows _something_ of magic, having been able to hatch dragon eggs and all that.

The once Dragon Queen turns to him. "I know we have our share of animosity", she says. "I'm not eager to work with you or your sister. But, if Kinvara is right—if there _is_ a threat looming over Westeros that we must stop—I'll compromise again."

"So will I", he replies easily; it's nothing they haven't done before. "I can't speak for Cersei, though."

"She wants to go back home, doesn't she?"

 _She wants to go back to the Iron Throne, which is the same place you want to go._ "I'll try to persuade her", he says instead. "I make no promises."

* * *

"I don't intend on playing hero", Cersei spats when he finishes his speech—which he almost didn't, considering the amount of interruptions on her part. "This is _your_ little dream, not mine."

He swallows—typical of his twin, to consider being a good person a 'little dream'—and says the argument he's rehearsed in his mind before coming back to their room. "But you want your crown back, don't you? If you lead an effort to save Westeros from another huge threat, people will back you up."

"Just as they might back the Dragon Whore up."

"No, because _she_ has to pay for burning the capital down. Her heroism will be seen as her atoning for her wrong deeds, while yours will be seen as proof of your benevolence."

She goes silent after that, eyes gazing at nothing, and he knows he's gotten to her. Years watching and following Cersei taught him what she likes to hear; he may not have used this knowledge often, but things have changed, and so must his tactics with her.

Sensing she won't answer anytime soon, he decides to leave her for a bath. The inn has two tiny bathhouses attached, one for women and another for men. As he strips and lowers himself inside one, he reminisces about the bath he shared with Brienne years ago.

He cannot say he fell for her there; he was not lucid enough to do so. But everything about that moment—from her naked form looming over him to his choked confession about Aerys—left a deep impression on his mind and soul, one he carries to this day. If you ask what prompted him to tell her about the wildfire, he won't be able to give a straight answer. There are so many things to consider: he wanted her to trust him; he feared he'd die and wanted at least one person to know the truth, for it to live on after his passing; he was delirious with fever and lacking in self-constraint…

The reasons don't really matter; the consequences do. Brienne believed him instantly, despite his inability to prove his tale. Her attitude towards him shifted day by day, until they found themselves holding private conversations in the Red Keep about matters that could put both of them in serious trouble, should anyone loyal to the Crown overhear them. And then she named her newly gifted sword Oathkeeper. He's pretty sure that was _the_ moment for him, in which his heart surrendered itself to her. Of course, she already had some hold on it—after all, he wouldn't jump on a bear pit unarmed for _just anybody_ —but from that day on, whenever he claimed to love Cersei, he saw a pair of sapphire blue eyes instead.

His cock stirs at the unbidden memory of Riverrun. He doesn't remember asking in Winterfell whether she knew what he meant with ' _It's yours; it will always be yours'_ ; he suspects she didn't. Oh, it hurt to play the part of Kingslayer and tell Edmure he loved Cersei and would kill all Tullys needed to get back to her—if only the frail lord knew he was putting on a show out of love for another woman. Jaime chuckles upon imagining the confusion that would bring him.

He spends a whole hour in the bath—having to relieve himself there when his memories went back to that blissful month in Winterfell—before going back upstairs. Cersei's clothes are changed to ones she bought as soon as they set foot in Volantis, and she's now sitting on the edge of the bed. When he closes the door, she raises her head to him. "We will bring the Dragon Whore with us to Asshai", she states. "We'll find out what this threat is and deal with it accordingly. Then we get rid of her for good measure."

He doesn't bother telling her he won't kill Daenerys unless he finds a good reason to; he just nods.

* * *

It takes them five days to get on a ship that would go straight to Asshai. "It would be unwise to stop by Slaver's Bay", Daenerys explains. "I left some representatives there, but my presence might give them wrong ideas. They may think their queen is back for good, which I wouldn't be."

Curiosity peaks in, and he almost asks more about it—why did she leave a place where she was already Queen? How did she even rise to the position? Why doesn't she go back, if she is wanted there? However, it is not his place to ask those questions. He's not her friend, but a reluctant ally at _best_. So, he just accepts her explanation and looks for a ship that sails _past_ Slaver's Bay.

Fortunately, he finds a way to pay cheap for two small cabins, so the Targaryen woman won't be saddled with him and Cersei. _He_ is not eager to share a room with his sister, but duty demands it; someone has to watch over her and the baby. (He also doesn't trust his twin to not sneak out to Daenerys' cabin to kill her.)

The single bed in the cabin is too small for two people, so he makes himself comfortable on the floor. However, his sister seems to have other plans. "We are far enough from Westeros, brother", she begins, her voice in the seductive tone she tends to use when she has _plans_ for him. "There is no need for secrecy or false modesty."

He sighs. For a brief moment, he wonders if he should close his eyes and pretend to buy into her sweet talk, but no. He's not that weak man anymore. He wrote to Brienne to not question his devotion to her; he has a duty to his heart to stay faithful. "I agree, there is no need for any of those things", he replies without turning to her. "After all, we are only twins. Brother and sister."

He sits on the blanket he's put on the floor and looks at her. She's laying down on the bed, her tunic half-open, revealing the entirety of her left breast and the side of her right one, as well as her slightly swollen stomach. Once upon a time, not so long ago, that sight would have made him instantly hard. But now that he knows Brienne's body intimately, he can't help but compare—and be disappointed at what he sees now. "Don't be shy", she purrs. "I know you miss having a real woman underneath you."

"I do", he agrees once again. Just as she begins to grin, he adds, "But she's far from here."

There, he said it. After months of keeping his mouth shut, he blurts it out. The change in Cersei's posturing is immediate. Her grin turns into a grimace, her cat-like eyes narrow, and she sits up, letting the side of her tunic fall. "You cannot mean to have bedded that _beast_."

"I bedded no beast", he replies firmly, holding his gaze. "I made love to a woman far better than you could ever be."

"Don't be ridiculous", she spats. "Anyone who spares _her_ a glance can tell she's lacking in all ways of womanhood. There is no possible way she's _better_ than me. You just say it because you were suffering from my absence. Don't you remember how you went down on me in the sept, after months and months at _her_ side? You did not seem to find her better than me back then."

He wastes no time with a reply. "I was a fool back then, unable to see what has always been in front of me. If I'm suffering from anyone's absence, it's hers, because I love her and she loves me _._ " Well, he's not completely sure of that last part, but he hopes it's the truth. He doesn't believe she'd allow him in her bed without feeling something for him in return. "For that alone, she's far better, but", at that he stands up, "I wasn't just comparing you two in bed. Brienne is better than you in _every way_ possible."

"And yet", she snarls, "you are on a ship alone with _me_ , instead of enjoying her cunt some more."

In the blink of an eye, his hand is holding her chin firmly, violently, lifting her head to him. He can feel his face contort in fury. "The next time you speak of her with disrespect will be the last time you _speak_. Do you understand?" He then lets go of her, pushing her slightly in the process. "I'm the sole reason you are still alive, _sister_. You'd do well not to push my buttons." And then he leaves the cabin without waiting for her answer.


	2. Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa receives a letter that leads to armor-piercing questions and world-shattering realizations.

"That is all for today, my lords and ladies", she proclaims. "We will continue these matters on the morrow."

The men and women in the room salut her with her titles, and she gives them a polite smile as she turns to leave. Only when she's alone in her room, she allows her smile to fall, revealing her exhaustion.

She should be happy; after all, she rose to Queen of an indepent North, free to make all changes necessary—changes the South never bothered to put in motion. She rules over _half_ of Westeros.

However, as she's learned over the years, power always comes with a price, and hers felt too high sometimes. She is _alone_. Arya would rather sail to a voyage she might never come from than staying at her side, Jon ventures beyond the ruined Wall with no way of communicating with her, and Bran is King in the south.

Bran is not even _Bran_ these days. As he's insisted since coming back to Winterfell, he's the _Three-Eyed Raven,_ an entity bigger than his body, or his sense of self. She had hoped he'd come back to his senses after the Night King's defeat, but no. Her brother seems to be gone for good.

When did it begin? Was it when he fell from the tower—pushed down by gods know who? (She has her suspicions, of course—the way the Kingslayer looked at him sometimes was impossible to miss over the days he stayed in Winterfell—but those are all they are.) Was it when Theon burned their home and drove him away? Or—most likely—was it somewhere along the way he tried to compensate for his broken legs?

 _Bran the Broken_. Her true brother would never have accepted such a name. _Her_ Bran would never let his condition define him in this way. When he not only accepted that title, but the crown—after months refusing his title of Lord of Winterfell—she knew she had lost him.

"You will have to write to me", he'd told her when she was ready to leave the ruined King's Landing. "My powers in the south are not strong enough to reach the North, at least not yet."

At the time, she feigned a slight sadness; it seemed to be what he expected after all. In truth, the revelation brought her relief. It always felt unnerving to know she could be watched at any moment. The memory of him evoking her wedding night to Ramsay still gives her unpleasant chills.

Sansa can't help but wonder: why did he tell her he could not be lord of anything, but accept a crown? Being Lord of Winterfell would not have hindered any claims; on the contrary. Did he not see Tyrion championing for him? She remembers his response when Jon apologized for not being there for him more often.

" _You were exactly where you were supposed to be._ "

Such a statement implies he knew what was going to happen. Did he know all the details, or only that he'd end up king? Even so, he should have known tragedy would come before he was crowned. She doubts Tyrion would have suggested him if there was an eligible Targaryen to crown instead.

She sighs. Speaking of Targaryens... She must make a decision about Jon sooner or later. Bran sent him into exile beyond the Wall, but the Wall is half down and no longer useful. Those lands are now under jurisdiction too, and she won't make the mistake of ignoring them. Jon would be so helpful in that regard, and she sees no reason for him to remain in _her_ lands, especially when the people who demanded punishment are not even in Westeros anymore.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a knock on her door. Grateful that she hasn't changed out of her formal attire yet, she puts her polite smile back to open it. She's greeted by one of her sweetest maids, Alanys. "Your Grace", she greets her. "A letter just arrived. Er… it's from Volantis, and addressed to Brienne of Tarth."

She frowns. Her former sworn sword hasn't been in Winterfell since the summit. Bran had asked her and Podrick to join his Kingsguard, and Sansa released them from their vows when they expressed their wishes to accept the offer. She did counsel Brienne against it; after all, she was her House's sole heir. Her friend was resolute though, and Sansa could understand why she'd want to lock herself out of marriage prospects.

"You did well in giving it to me, Alanys", she tells her softly. "I'll send it forward to King's Landing in the morrow." But first she'd read it. Brienne will have to forgive her, but she finds a letter to her coming from Volantis highly suspicious.

 _My beloved Brienne,_ it begins. What? Brienne has a loved one in _Volantis_? It doesn't make any sense, not after what she witnessed during and after the Kingslayer's stay.

She re-reads that line, focusing on the handwriting. It's not pretty at all, but it looks… careful, as if it belongs to someone not used to writing—not with that hand, at least…

But it can't be, can it? He's _dead_. Urgently, her eyes dart to the end of the letter, and she gasps at what she finds.

_Yours,_

_Jaime Lannister._

Suddenly, she remembers the one time he wrote in front of her. She was trying to sort out the amount of resources needed to rebuild what was destroyed of the castle in the wake of battle, and he sat down to write every item needed, after surveying the castle himself. She'd been incredibly grateful for him that day, and even began to understand what her friend saw in him—until he left her crying in the middle of the night.

It's the same handwriting, clumsy thanks to the loss of his dominant hand. But why does he write to Brienne after breaking her heart? How does he dare call her 'beloved'? Shaking her head, she continues on reading.

_I write to let you know I'm safe and sound in Volantis with Cersei, though not without some bad news to deliver._

Why does he think Brienne would care to know he and _Cersei_ are safe?

_First of all, it seems that I've forgotten all of my journey from Winterfell to King's Landing, as well as any plans made beforehand. I wish I could actually wait for your reply so you can enlighten me, but Cersei and I decided to sail as farthest east as possible before she gives birth..._

She sets the parchment down, her head suddenly spinning around. He doesn't remember going to King's Landing to get to his sister, and he clearly doesn't remember how he left either. He assumes there is a _plan_ behind his stay with Cersei, one Brienne is aware of.

Could it be? No, no; Brienne is a terrible liar. She wouldn't have been able to fake her tears and sobs upon telling her Jaime left her, nor would she be able to conceal any scheming. Besides, even though she doesn't seem to _hate_ Cersei, she has no love for her either, so why would she plot with Ser Jaime to get her to safety?

She re-reads that part. _Before she gives birth_. Cersei Lannister is _pregnant_? How come she's never heard of this before? Did the Kingslayer know that when he came to Winterfell? Is it his? Is that why he went back, after all?

_My last memories are of seeing you and Sansa talking in the yards. Did we make some plan for me to sneak Cersei to safety until she gives birth? I tried to think of any plausible reason for waking up in a boat alongside her after spending a whole month waking up next to you, and this unborn child is all I've found..._

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to remember a moment she talked to him in Brienne's presence outside the castle. The memory comes easily: she's just received a raven informing her of one of Daenerys' dragons' death—the one Jon rode, if she recalls correctly. She remembers taunting him about his twin's impending death.

Hadn't she felt guilty about it, days later, when Brienne told her of his last words before riding out of Winterfell? She had asked herself if her words had not triggered something in him, only to wave these thoughts off, refusing to take blame for his actions. Now, though, she wonders if her little speech indeed has something to do with his change in behavior. He looked so content with Brienne… And now he claims to not remember even her words to him, and his amnesiac self writes to her friend with loving words.

_I do wonder why my memory fails me. I woke up with a bleeding injury in my stomach, but, as far as I know, memory loss comes from head injuries instead, and I've got none of those. Perhaps I've gone away inside? It makes sense that I'd retreat myself in order to face my sister once again, away from you..._

What does he mean with 'gone away inside'? Is it something similar to what Bran does when he wargs into an animal and is no longer mentally present? She doubts Ser Jaime can _warg_ , but perhaps he's talking of a similar process.

Thinking of Bran sparks something in her. Does her not-brother have something to do with the Kingslayer's amnesia? He declared both Lannister twins dead, claiming to have seen them perishing in the flames—which would explain the lack of bodies to bury to their brother Tyrion. But, if Jaime Lannister is indeed the one writing this letter, it can only mean Bran lied. Why would he, though? Sansa has little doubts of the veracity of the letter before her; Ser Jaime's handwriting is hard to copy, and she can't fathom a reason for someone in Volantis to pretend to be him and write to Brienne with sweet words. The only possible explanation is the one in the letter itself: the Lannister twins survived, and Ser Jaime has no recollection of how he left Winterfell and went to rescue his sister in the now destroyed capital.

_I hope things are well for you and Lady Sansa. Cersei told me she saw the whole capital burning under Daenerys' dragon (apparently Jon Snow's was killed by Euron?). There's been no news of Westeros here, so I can only pray you are indeed in Winterfell, safe in the bloody North._

If she needed any further proof that he doesn't remember what she told him in the yards, there it is. He would not be unsure of Rhaegal's death otherwise. And he wishes _Sansa_ well? Maybe she should not be surprised; the two of them shared amicable moments during his stay. Still...

_I don't remember telling you this, although I must have, so I'll tell you here and now in this letter:_ _**I love you** _ _, Brienne. Don't let this little quest make you doubt my devotion to you._

She gasps again. Here he is, telling his feelings in plain words: Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, loves Brienne of Tarth. He had not pretended to care for her. It had all been real.

But—why leave the woman he loves for Cersei? Why remind her of all the cruel things he's done for his sister? Why claim he's as hateful as her and ride away to his presumed death?

 _Whatever this plan is, I'm only here for the child_ — _which, second bad news, is not even mine, but Euron's. As soon as the baby is born, I'll find my way back to you. I wish to marry you, my lady Ser, if you'll have this old, crippled man with no prospects and nothing to give you but his heart._

_I miss you already. Can't wait to get back to you._

She puts the paper down and buries her face in her hands. Nothing makes sense anymore; not that it made much sense before, but now things are even more confusing. The questions are so many, she can't even make them out.

A thought insists on coming to surface, though: Bran has something to do with this, and it's not good. A deep feeling of dread settles on her gut.

She remembers Tyrion's face upon hearing his statement that his siblings were burned down to the point only ashes remained—Bran claimed to have seen this in his visions. This is definitely a lie. He could not have seen any of them burning if they made it out to safety. Maybe he did not see their escape, but shouldn't he know that Jaime and Cersei were, at least, _not_ in the castle? Why not tell Tyrion that?

 _Perhaps to make him feel guilty?_ Her former husband did look somewhat shameful, as if he had done something that contributed to his siblings' deaths. She did not ask him about it—she should have, in hindsight; she'd understand this situation a lot better if she knew. Bran clearly used his guilt—whether about those deaths, whether about Daenerys' turn to madness and her destructive spree—to make him his Hand. Had he lied to Tyrion to further hold him under his thumb?

She doesn't want to believe her brother capable of this kind of scheming, but this is _not_ her brother, is he? He's the Three-Eyed Raven, a man without family, friends, lands or anything that ties down mere mortals to the ground.

By the time she goes to bed, she is certain of two things:

One, she won't send his letter to Brienne. She doesn't trust it will remain safe in King's Landing.

Two, the Three-Eyed Raven is _dangerous_ , and it's likely that they made a grave mistake in naming him King.


	3. Oracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime, Cersei and Daenerys reach Asshai and meet the infamous Oracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And welcome to Asshai! I enjoyed making up details of the mysterious city, and I hope you like it as well <3  
> This chapter is exposition heavy, so brace yourselves!  
> Warning: I'm retconning the scene where Tyrion told Daenerys about why Jaime killed Aerys. Tyrion never gave any indication that he knew Jaime's secret beforehand, nor did Jaime give indication that he had ever told anyone before Brienne. Also, for such a big revelation, it's so completely glossed over, it feels like the writers themselves retconned it the moment Tyrion stopped talking (you only have to check GoT fanfic to notice that most people forgot it as well). For the sake of minimal continuity, I'll pretend this dialogue never happened, and neither Tyrion or Dany knows about it.

By the time they reach the Shadowlands, Cersei's clothes barely fit her growing belly. Her own estimations date her pregnancy by five months, which fits their voyage time from King's Landing to Asshai.

After their fight, Jaime doesn't go to their cabin again, having no wish to look at her. Instead, he spends his days on the ship's deck, even helping the crew sometimes—it's how he got a hook for his stump, which is far lighter and more useful than the golden hand. _Brienne hated that thing_ , he thinks, remembering how she always took it off before their lovemaking. The memory of her kissing the top of his stump never fails to make his heart melt—and the one of her bringing it to her inner tight never fails to make him hard.

His nights are also spent outside; he falls asleep to the sound of the ocean waves, just like in the boat. His dreams are not so different from his daytime reveries—Brienne, Brienne, Brienne. The more time he spends away from her, the more she plagues his mind. He welcomes it gladly, eager to rid himself of anything Cersei-related and replace it all with the warrior woman with gentle hands and an even gentler heart.

Surprisingly, he forms some sort of kinship with Daenerys. After her surprise at the current state of his relationship with his former lover, she asks him about his time in Winterfell after she and her army left; in exchange, she shares the few memories she has of that period of time. They don't succeed in piercing together what exactly drove her to ultimate madness, but some pieces of the puzzle are found.

She sheds some tears when he reveals his sister killed her advisor—Missandei, that's her name. "I cannot have dealt well with her death", she guesses, "especially so soon after losing Ser Jorah, and Viserion before that." They also infer the loss of Rhaegal—the dragon lost to Euron's fleet—must have shaken her off. "It can't have been enough", she insists. "It's one thing to mourn, but to lash out my grief upon thousands of innocents…" She sniffs. "Not that it justifies anything, but perhaps I got worse if I was betrayed in any way." Her gaze turns vacant at this point. He waits for her to elaborate, but it takes a while. "Did you know", she whispers, "that Jon Snow is not a bastard at all?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

She looks at him. "I don't remember how far this information spread, but his father is not Ned Stark. My brother Rhaegar eloped with his sister Lyanna. Jon is a legitimate Targaryen—"

"With a bigger claim to the throne than you", he finishes for her. "But he bent the knee to you."

" _Before_ he found out about his parentage. I remember him declaring not wanting anything to do with the Iron Throne—he said I was his queen, repeatedly. But what if he changed his mind, for whatever reason?"

He can't provide her an answer, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Days later, she asks him why he killed her father. "He was called the Mad King", she says when he visibly startles. "Ser Barristan told me mixed stories… But my house's history is full of cruel kings and princes. Hells, there was the _Dance of the Dragons_ , and never before it fell down. Now that I… did what I did, I can't help but wonder what my father might have done for our dynasty to crumble."

He really wants to ask what Barristan told her, but decides to simply answer her question instead. "He ordered wildfire caches spread all over the city's lower levels. Under houses, inns, stores, the city gates, even the Red Keep itself." He closes his eyes, recalling his only other time telling this story. "When my father's army began to sack the city, he told his Hand, who was a pyromancer, to ignite them. _Burn them all_ , he kept saying. I tried to reason with him, but he told me to bring him my father's head. I saw no other way. I killed Rossart first, of course, then killed Aerys so he could give no more orders."

She doesn't talk to him for two days after that. When she does, there is an apology on her tongue. "I'm sorry I did what you killed my father to prevent."

He shrugs. "Cersei would have done the same, most likely."

"Did she know?"

"No one did. No one _asked_. The only one other than you who knows is Brienne." 

"They should have", she replies. "I should have, back in Winterfell. No sensible person would commit this kind of crime without a reason."

"Oh, am I sensible now?"

"Should I assume you are not? Knowing nothing but your name?"

She has a point.

* * *

Asshai is as dark as the stories claim it to be, though he can see multiple lanterns around the docks as he guides Cersei down—he can no longer ignore her now that they are inland again. Daenerys, who speaks many more languages and much more fluently than he could ever dream of, goes ahead, asking for anyone she finds working at the docks if they know anyone named Oracle. Finally, she comes to them. "There is someone who speaks Common Tongue", she says, pointing at a woman with her chin. "She claims to know where the Oracle lives."

Cersei wonders aloud if the woman is trustworthy. He sighs. "What else can we do?"

So they follow her inside the city. As they cross the gate that welcomes them to Asshai itself, Jaime is surprised to find the streets filled with colorful lanterns. "We do what we can to get some light", the woman—who introduced herself as Gwen—explains. "People have been studying ways to generate light—magically or otherwise. The Oracle can only do so much to bring us sunlight, and moonlight here is so weak we don't count on it for anything."

Given the complete lack of light in the sky, he assumes it's nighttime. Some buildings are bursting with sound and people. "Parties", Gwen says when he asks about it. "Family dinners, nameday feasts, parties to bring strangers together… you can find all sorts of events in Asshai'i night life."

"I thought you spent your time practicing magic", he says as politely as he can.

"There is a whole portion of the city that does that", she agrees. "But not the common folk. Most of us just find ways to live, day by day."

She guides them through a particularly lively street, then they go up a more silent lane. Finally, they stop by a small house, illuminated only by a green lantern. "Here we are", Gwen announces. "Let me summon her for you."

As the woman knocks at the door, Cersei's grip on his arm tightens. He glances at her and is met with a nervous look, one he hasn't seen in years. "What are you afraid of?", he asks gently.

"For all we know", she whispers in response, "we came to our deaths."

"We should have died back in King's Landing", he reminds her. "Any day we've gotten since then is an extra one."

It does nothing to soothe his sister, but before he can think of any other comforting words, the door opens, revealing a woman holding a torch. Combining the green lantern light with her torchlight, he can make out she's slim, with a heart-shaped face and long silvery hair. One eye seems brighter than the other, but it could be an effect of the lights. He catches sight of a string around her neck, although he can't see a pendant.

"Daenerys Targaryen", she says solemnly. "Cersei and Jaime Lannister. I've been waiting for you."

* * *

They settle on her kitchen table after thanking Gwen for her help. The Oracle lights up enough torches for them to see the inside of the room and busies herself making drinks. "Tea?", she offers nonchalantly. They all politely refuse. "Wise of you", she comments. "To not accept drinks from a stranger. I'll make it for myself regardless."

They stay silent as she does, exchanging nervous glances among them. Cersei rubs her belly frantically, as if the gesture could give extra protection to the baby. Jaime's legs grow restless, and Daenerys' gaze darts across the small kitchen, not stopping anywhere.

After what feels like an eternity, the Oracle sits down between him and Daenerys with a tea cup in her hands. She takes a sip and begins to talk. "Kinvara is a sweetheart, and she always has everyone's best intentions at heart. I should warn you, though—I'm not like that."

He feels Cersei grab his arm strongly. _I can't save you if she plans to kill us all, sister._ Seemingly oblivious to the rising tension, the woman continues, "My intentions with you are… selfish, truly. However, I do believe we can all benefit from this, which is why I reached out to Kinvara as soon as I found out of your presence in Essos."

"Who are you?", Cersei asks with a trembling voice.

The Oracle smiles. "It is only fair to start with that, right?" She takes another sip. "Tell me, ladies and lord, what do you know of the Three-Eyed Raven?"

Cersei knows nothing, and Jaime thinks he doesn't either until Daenerys mentions it to be the entity that currently possesses Bran Stark's body. He adds some input to her words, but in the end they seem to know little about it.

The woman nods slowly. "You do not know of his origins, then", she says when they finish.

"I vaguely remember Bran saying other people were the Raven before him", Daenerys replies. The information does sound familiar to him.

"Yes, it's true", the woman says, putting down her cup. "Although you clearly don't know who was the last Raven before your friend—the one I _know_ is inside Bran Stark." A pause. "Surely you must have heard of Brynden Rivers."

"Bloodraven?", he asks immediately. She nods. "Of course. His story is widely told across Westeros. He was reported dead after going missing on a ranging mission beyond the Wall, years after rising to Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

"He did go missing, yes", she agrees. "But he did not die." Another sip of tea. "He went on the range with a clear purpose—find the Three-Eyed Raven and become him. I don't know if this made it to history tomes, but Brynden had warging abilities as well as greensight. His stay at the Wall strengthened his powers and enabled him to find what he had been looking for… What _we_ had been looking for."

He frowns. "You knew him personally?"

She grins. "It seems that no drawings of me made it to present time. We used to be lovers. My name is Shiera Seastar."

* * *

Cersei is the one to recall descriptions of Shiera Seastar, which all fit the Oracle's appearance—notably the indeed mismatched eyes, one dark blue and the other bright green (so it hadn't been a trick of light). After they all process this revelation, she continues her tale.

"The rumours were true. Brynden and I did use blood magic in our daily lives. I longed to be young and beautiful forever, and he longed for unquestionable power. Eventually, we found what we were looking for.

"We had—still have—a blood pact. Our lives are intertwined—if one of us dies, so does the other. Since I wished to be young and beautiful _forever_ , my powers come with an inability to be killed. Although the Three-Eyed Raven _can_ be immortal, it can also be killed—it's what's happened with all Ravens before. We found the binding spell in a… book. I think I destroyed it before coming here, but I'm not sure anymore. It's been so long…

"Anyway, we got similar powers as the Raven and the Oracle, although they are limited by our realms. Brynden's powers don't work well outside Westeros, just like mine are essentially limited to Essos. They also grow weaker as we leave the places where we got them, which is why I don't leave Asshai if I can help it."

She takes another sip of tea. "What does it have to do with us?", Cersei asks.

"I can't see over Westeros", Shiera replies, "but I can get glimpses of my lover's head, which means I know what he's done over the last few decades in order to achieve his goal—to rule over the realm and its people."

That sentence alone is enough to make his blood run cold. Bran Stark—or rather, _Bloodraven_ —intends to rule? Does she mean… get the Iron Throne for himself?

As is sensing his thoughts, she turns directly to him. "Jaime Lannister", she calls, "give me your hand so I can unlock your memories."

He straightens his back up. "Will you see inside my mind?"

"It's a side effect, for sure, but I can't do anything _other_ than see. Mind manipulation is among Brynden's powers, not mine."

There is no other option, is there? Not if he wants his memories back. He offers his only hand to her, and she grabs it. The wave of memories hit him immediately.

_I always wanted to be there when they executed your sister. Seems like I won't get the chance._

_You're not like your sister, you're_ _**not**_ _! You're better than she is. You're a good man, and_ _**you can't save her**_ _. You don't need to die with her. Stay here. Stay with me… please,_ _**stay**_ _!_

 _You think I'm a good man… She's hateful, and_ _**so am I**_ _._

 _You're going back to her. To_ _**die** _ _with her._

_I never really cared about them… innocent or otherwise._

_Do you care for_ _**one** _ _innocent? I know you do, and so does Cersei._

_**Escape**_ _. The two of you, together… If the winds are kind, you'll make it to Pentos. Start a new life._

_If it weren't for you, I never would've survived my childhood… You were the only one who didn't treat me like a monster. You were all I had._

_**Listen**_ _! That's the sound of the city dying. It's over._

_I want our baby to live. Don't let me die, Jaime, please! I don't want to die… not like this, not like this!_

_Nothing else matters but us. Come with me, I know a way out._

Everything is a blur: Brienne sobbing, Tyrion sobbing, Cersei sobbing, Euron laughing, the walls crumbling, his chains being unlocked, a stab on his belly, Brienne's hands cupping his face with desperation…

"Jaime! Jaime!", he can hear Cersei calling, can feel her hands touching him, but it doesn't matter. What matters is what he did.

There is no plan between him and Brienne to rescue Cersei's baby on the off chance they'd raise it together. He never told her he loves her, never asked her to marry him. Instead, he told her all of his actions have been for _Cersei_ —which is a big _lie_ , by the way—and left her sobbing in the middle of the night, begging for him to stay.

 _Stay_. She's never asked for a thing from him, save from keeping oaths made to others, but when she asked to simply _stay with her_ , he did not do as told. Instead he went to his vile twin, who always demanded and never gave an inch of herself.

The only plan he made was with his brother, who wanted desperately to see him alive, even if it meant his hateful sister would live too. He committed treason against his queen, for a brother who couldn't even bother to tell him he loved him.

Everything feels so wrong, but he knows these are not fabrications, or nightmares. It's all real.

Distantly, he hears Daenerys scream—Shiera must have unlocked her memories too, and those might be even worse than his own. But he's still too caught up on his mistakes to reach out to her.

He never deserved Brienne, that much is true. He's always known that, and feared the day she'd realize what he and the whole realm know. However, as she welcomed him to her bed and to her life for that incredible month, he dared hope he could _become_ deserving of her. But it seems he cannot allow himself joy. Why? _Why_?

It would have been so easy to stay as she asked. She knew he'd die if he went to King's Landing, she knew who he was going there for—she knew him too well. And yet she didn't berate him for his choice; she only asked him to stay. Gentler and far more loving than Cersei ever was, so _why_ didn't he stay?

He doesn't know how much time passes before he begins to sob, just like Brienne did. And Tyrion. And even Cersei, though he hates the memory of her cries. He sobs, and tears fall shamelessly. There is nothing around him, except his failures to those he loves the most.

* * *

He doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until he opens his eyes. A torch is lit above him, and there is no light outside the tiny window—oh yes, he's in the shadowlands. He stands up and leaves the small room, hoping to find his way to the kitchen.

Only Shiera is there to greet him, seemingly wearing the same dress as before. "Daenerys fainted when she recovered her memories", she explains. "And your sister decided to retire to bed after you shoved her away." He doesn't recall doing that. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I feel numb", he replies sincerely. "And I'd rather not think any further about it than strictly necessary." It's not like it will do him any good—not if he still has a quest to fulfill.

"Fair enough. Are you hungry?" He nods. "If you can trust me enough now, I have chocolate cookies."

"I… don't think I've ever heard of those."

"Oh, it's an YiTish invention." She grabs one and offers him.

He takes a bite. It's really good. He tells her as much, and she gives him a handful of them. An hour goes by before Daenerys and Cersei join them. "What time is it?", his sister asks.

"Just outside the shadowlands, it's sunrise", Shiera replies. "It will take a couple more hours for it to be remotely visible here, though. Most of the city is still asleep. Breakfast is served, suit yourselves."

Besides the cookies, there is a jar of orange juice. He is surprised to find it tastes sweetly. The two women serve themselves, and another hour goes before Shiera decides to continue her story.

"As you all know now, King's Landing was mostly burned down", she says. "Daenerys was killed by her nephew and lover for her actions, but her army, always loyal to her, demanded justice. All heads of Great Houses were called, and Bran Stark—Brynden—went there with his sisters.

"Tyrion Lannister, imprisoned by Daenerys before her death and kept prisoner by the Unsullied alongside Jon Snow, championed for Bran the Broken, who was elected king. Sansa Stark vouched for an independent North and got her wish."

"That doesn't make any sense", Cersei retorts, and for once he agrees with her. "Why would Sansa want a separate North if her brother is King of Westeros?"

Shiera sighs. "As you'll soon see, this was not her will alone. But before I drop all reveals on your laps, let me finish what seems to be the current predicament of Westeros—as I can see from Bloodraven's mind and as I hear from the ports of the Free Cities. Bran Stark is King of the Six Kingdoms, with Tyrion Lannister as his Hand, Ser Bronn of Highgarden as Master of Coin, Samwell Tarly as Grand Maester, Davos Seaworth as Master of Ships and Ser Brienne of Tarth as Lady Commander of his Kingsguard."

He chokes on his orange juice. Cersei laughs. "Oh, brother", she snarls. "It seems that you were such a poor of a lover, your beast decided a life of celibacy was better than fucking ever again."

To his surprise, Daenerys comes to his defense. "I think it's romantic", she says casually, taking a sip of her own juice. "Swearing herself off marriage so she won't have to betray her memory of the man she loved."

His heartbeat falters, and he feels his face warm up—thankfully, there is not enough light for the women to see him blush. Shiera hums. "Maybe it was that", she says smoothly, "but maybe it was another… reason entirely. After all, by denying herself marriage, she's denying her House any possibility of being continued. She and her father are the last Tarths, and she knows it. The _king_ knows it."

Her tones insinuates so many things, he bites his tongue to stop himself from making inquiries. The woman goes on. "Jon Snow was sentenced to the Night's Watch on the charges of queenslaying."

"Is there still a Night's Watch?", Daenerys asks.

"I suppose not", Shiera replies with a shrug. "Arya Stark did not stay with either of her siblings. Instead, she sailed into the Sunset Sea, to find out what's west of Westeros." She drinks from her cup—juice or tea, he can't tell. "She's soon going to find out the world is round, and the same continent found east of Westeros is the one which is west of it."

He frowns. "So she's coming here?"

She nods. "I'd wait for her if I were you, by the way. Where was I? Oh… The surviving Unsullied, led by Grey Worm, sailed to Naath after seeing justice done for Daenerys."

The former dragonrider gasps. "No foreigner who goes to Naath lives long", she says quietly. "There is a butterfly disease that kills everyone who stays there for more than a couple days, and only natives are immune."

Shiera smiles sadly. "I know. It's what happened to them."

Daenerys looks down and doesn't reply. He tries to imagine how he'd feel if he ever found out his entire army went to their deaths believing him to be gone, but it hurts too much.

The Oracle continues. "Can you all see the final result of this? Bran Stark, first of his name, rules the Six Kingdoms with no one to contest his claim. Any rival claimants are gone in one way or another. The last female Targaryen killed, the last male one exiled. Out of the three last Lannisters, two perished in flames, and the third lost all wish to rule and is being forced to remain the king's Hand, as penance for supporting the Dragon Queen when all he wanted was to retire. Out of the remaining Starks, one is exiled, another left Westeros with no plans to go back, and the third is content with ruling her own land. All the other Houses are too broken and weak to even desire to go against their new king. Bloodraven got his wish."

From the corner of his eye, he sees Cersei's hand twitch. "You make it sound like he planned for all of this to happen."

Shiera doesn't miss a beat. "And he did. He's planned this for a _long time_."

She takes pause, likely for dramatic effect. When nobody says a word, she goes on. "Aerys wasn't always mad", she begins, much to his surprise. "He was terribly unfocused, going from one big idea to another without much thought, but he had friends and advisors to talk him out of his impulses—Tywin Lannister among them." She takes a bite of a cookie. "Brynden began to… _whisper_ things to him. I don't know all of what he told the poor man, but it drove Aerys mad with time. It was his idea to have wildfire spread all over the city; he told Aerys he'd be reborn from the ashes as a dragon, and his rule would be uncontested."

His hand is the one to twitch. _Burn them all_ , he hears the Mad King scream in his last moments. "Brynden's intention was to have King's Landing burn indeed. The destruction of the capital at the hands of a Targaryen would make the entire realm wary of naming another one king ever again. The fall of House Targaryen was his aim… but then you killed Aerys before it could happen, Ser Jaime. It didn't matter much, for in the end House Baratheon rose to the throne anyway, but it did mean Brynden had to adjust his plans.

"Driving Aerys mad wasn't the only thing he did at the time, though. His whispers led Rhaegar to a prophecy book and made him obsessed with bringing some of them to life. He whispered in Lyanna Stark's ear to enter the tourney in Harrenhal as a mystery night, knowing it would lead to them meeting." He takes a sharp breath. "Lyanna _wrote_ to her family before leaving with him. She told them she had important business to attend to with the prince, and she'd return to them as soon as possible to fulfill her duty and marry Robert Baratheon. But the raven never reached the Starks."

 _Seven hells_ , he thinks as he hears gasps coming from Daenerys and Cersei. Robert's Rebellion was founded on a lie. Lyanna was never kidnapped—there had been no need for Rickard and Brandon Stark to be killed. Had the letter just arrived… the Starks would have merely waited out, and no war would have happened. "Brynden wanted the Starks to think her abducted", Shiera continues, "because he wanted Brandon dead, so Eddard Stark would become Lord of Winterfell and wed Catelyn Tully instead. He knew his ideal successor would come from _their_ line. Brandon's namesake would be a soft, calm and dreamy boy—the perfect person to be lured into his trap."

No, no, no, no!

"He didn't take the Lannister twins' affair into account, of course. Who would bother to check into two unassuming kids? When Ser Jaime killed Aerys, though, Brynden looked into his life and saw it all. When he realized Cersei would marry the king, he decided to bid his time, for it would only be a matter of time before your relationship would bring chaos to the realm. The fact that the Spider and Littlefinger also wanted that chaos was a bonus he didn't plan, but took full advantage of."

He shifts into his seat. "How did he take advantage of Cersei and I?"

She sighs. "I know you don't want to reminisce about bad memories, but I need you to think hard on some moments. First… I want you to remember your thoughts before pushing Bran Stark out of the window."

He inhales sharply and closes his eyes. The memory of that day comes easily—it would come unbidden to him often when he was in Winterfell. "My first instinct was to grab him", he says in a low voice. "He looked about to fall anyway. I—I think I wanted to pull him inside and threaten him to silence, or something. But… Cersei kept saying, 'he saw us, he saw us'. I… Pushing him was not my first idea, but when it came—"

"It was impossible to ignore", she finishes for him softly. "That's the power of his suggestion."

He opens his eyes. "You're saying that _Bloodraven_ made me push Bran Stark down the tower?"

She nods. "Ned Stark had accepted Robert's offer to be his Hand far too early for Brynden's liking—actually, Jon Arryn died too early, but—well. The point is, he needed Bran in Winterfell in order to lure him to cross the Wall and meet him, but his father wanted to take him along to King's Landing. When he saw that the two of you wanted to go at it in an abandoned tower and that Bran was climbing at the same time, he orchestrated for you three to meet. It was too easy for him to convince you to push the kid—your family would die if your secret came to light, after all. One child in exchange for three; for someone who traded a king and a reputation for thousands of people, it didn't seem wrong, did it?"

He shakes his head. No, it didn't. _You weren't sorry then._

"There was always the risk of Bran dying, of course, but Brynden figured he could use Rickon if it came to that. However, when he fell into a coma… it was the best thing that could have happened. He had plenty of time to show off his powers and call the boy to him. Afterwards, he just needed to find a way to drive him out of Winterfell, since, on his own, Bran was now powerless to leave."

He has a feeling he should know what comes next, but he can't remember all that well what happened in the North while he was—"Theon Greyjoy", he whispers, suddenly remembering what he heard in Robb Stark's camp.

"Yes", she agrees. "Theon loved Robb; he was his best friend. Why betray him all of a sudden? Brynden knew his weaknesses and played into them."

"But that was only possible because the realm was at war", Cersei argues, "which gave the Greyjoys the opportunity to rebel again."

Shiera hums. "Hm, I forgot about that part. Let me think… remind me, how did your war begin?"

"Robert died", he replies. "Then Ned Stark was beheaded for treason after spreading the story of Robert's children's true parentage."

"The war began before that", Cersei reminds him. "Father attacked the riverlands in retaliation for Lady Catelyn's abduction of Tyrion."

It takes some time for Shiera to reply. "Was Ned Stark's execution planned from the start?"

"No", his twin replies immediately. "I wanted him to be sent to the Night's Watch and told Joffrey as much. His call for beheading was as surprising to me as it was everyone else." He sees her blink. "Was it Bloodraven's doing?"

"Yes, I remember it now. What a better declaration of war, and of Joffrey's cruelty?" She takes a sip of her drink. "It's the only other thing he did to push the war ahead, though. Then he just let it happen, mostly, and intervened only on occasion."

"Really?", Cersei asks. "I almost expected you to say he made Father wage war because of Tyrion. They hated each other."

Shiera frowns and shakes her head. "Tyrion is still a Lannister", Jaime says, "whether Father liked it or not. Still family, still part of his legacy. Bloodraven did not need to convince him of retaliating against what Lady Catelyn did."

"But he did have to do some convincing for Tyrion", Shiera says suddenly. "To kill the father who waged war for him."

At that, Jaime and Cersei glance at each other. "It wasn't surprising at all to find that Tyrion killed Father", he tells Shiera. "I fail to see how Bloodraven had to intervene."

She shrugs. "I never actually bothered to look into your brother's mind when he came to Essos. Perhaps that was a mistake of mine. I don't know how necessary Brynden's intervention was to his plans, but I suppose he wanted to make sure your father would die. His thoughts about it were rather unclear at the time. Something about marriages?"

"He wanted both Cersei and I to marry", he replies, then quickly adds, "not each other, of course."

"He wanted to take Jaime off the Kingsguard", Cersei supplies. "It happened eventually, but Father was long gone by then. And he wanted to wed me to Loras Tyrell and send me to Highgarden."

Shiera hums. "I think he wanted you to stay in King's Landing. He… would you mind if I saw your memories? Just to confirm a theory."

Cersei frowns, but sighs after some time. "I suppose I have nothing to lose."

He looks away as Shiera moves forward to grab his twin's hands and glances at Daenerys, who's been eerily quiet so far. There is no time for either of them to talk, though, for the Oracle soon begins to talk again. "There, I found it. You heard a prophecy in which you'd outlive your children, right?" Woah, this is news for him. "And that you'd be queen until a 'younger and more beautiful' someone took your place?"

"Not necessarily in that order", she replies, "but yes."

"Brynden knew about this—I got a gist of it in his thoughts. He wanted you to be queen and work obsessively to prevent the prophecy from coming true. If your father stayed alive, not only would you lose power, you'd leave King's Landing. Tell me, who would have stayed by your son's side, had you left?"

Cersei frowns in concentration for a moment. "My father and Tommen's wife Margaery."

"Brynden must have found them too… stable. He may have feared they'd achieve peace sooner than intended."

His sister inhales sharply, and Jaime looks away from her. It hurts to hear Shiera casually remark that Cersei was responsible for unnecessary violence and death.

"Brynden whispered into your ear a few times as well, Lady Cersei", she continues. "The idea of using wildfire against House Tyrell wasn't really yours, you know."

He _has_ to ask. "Did he trick Tommen into killing himself as well?"

"Not that I've seen", she replies gently. "But it suited his plans, for it led to Cersei being crowned."

Now Daenerys decides to speak up. "Where do I enter all of this?"

They all turn to her. "You were fairly safe here in Essos", Shiera begins. "I wish I had had the courage of leaving Asshai to directly reach you, especially before Tyrion's arrival, but I've grown past dwelling on past mistakes and regrets. However, although you suffered no influence while here, Brynden was onto you as soon as you stepped foot in Westeros.

"You'd demand everyone to bend the knee to you, despite being a newcomer and, for all intents and purposes, a foreigner. You had the military strength, but few allies and not enough charisma yet. Brynden wanted you to fall, but postponed his plans when he realized having on Jon Snow's side against the White Walkers would be the golden opportunity for him to build _his_ own good image—the one he did not let you build."

His few memories of Daenerys while in Winterfell come rushing in. She did seem stable enough, but she never struck him as tempered or benevolent. At the time he assumed it was due to their natural enmity, but perhaps he had caught a glimpse of Bloodraven's influence on her. She looked on edge rather often.

"He urged Samwell Tarly to reveal Jon's true parentage to him in the worst possible time", she goes on. "It _broke_ the non-bastard. Finding out, at the eve of battle, that his whole life and identity were a lie… he did not deal with it well, which was just what Brynden wanted. He kept whispering into Tyrion's and Varys' ears that Jon was the best choice for the Iron Throne, as well as Sansa's, while he whispered into your ears that your allies were turning against you.

"He did a lot more subtly than when he did it to your father, but the overall effect was the same. You were already a bit unhinged when you marched to King's Landing, and the losses you suffered only made it worse. Still, you needed one more push."

She then turns to Jaime. "Brynden made you go away inside while whispering you were not worth happiness and love. He tricked you into believing you could only atone for your sins—especially the one against Bran Stark—if you joined your sister in death. That's why you abandoned your lady." He swallows a sob, but a couple tears fall anyway. "Tyrion's intervention went against his wishes, but when you fought Euron and got stabbed, he relaxed, thinking you'd never live long after that injury."

Well, it _was_ sort of a miracle he survived, now that he thinks about it.

"Your actions also led to the bells ringing, which was the trigger Brynden needed to finally drive Daenerys mad enough to burn the city down. He barely intervened afterwards." She takes another bite of her cookie. "Actually, Brynden refrained from intervening unless absolutely needed. He had to take his most direct actions with you, Ser Jaime, but he mostly planted seeds that naturally grew into what he wanted."

Something in her voice makes him wonder if she was praising him for demanding Bloodraven take direct actions to manipulate him.

"Finally, he whispered Bran's name into Tyrion's ear when the Great Council happened. He didn't need to trick the others into voting for him, only for his sisters to not question his claim too much. He already had planted a wish for independence in Sansa's mind, which was now so strong that she vouched for it despite her brother being king. He also had already drove Arya to a wish for a lonely life, which made her reject Gendry's proposal to her—"

"Gendry _proposed_ to Arya?", Daenerys asks, gasping. His eyes go wide at the news. While he vaguely noticed something going on between the pair, a marriage proposal would not be what he'd imagine for them.

"As soon as you made him Lord of Storm's End", Shiera replies, "which Brynden kept, in order to keep him close and vulnerable. Well, Arya's wish to sail away comes from this same forged wish for loneliness, which served his purpose to drive her away from him. He tapped into Tyrion's guilt to make him an easily manipulated Hand, tapped into Jon's guilt to send him as far as the Wall, tapped into Brienne's grief to make her his Kingsguard and into Bronn's ambition to make him Lord of Highgarden."

He does remember Tyrion promising Bronn that castle if he let the Lannister brothers live instead of following Cersei's orders—although, to be honest, he doesn't believe the sellsword would have killed them. He saved Jaime from dragonfire for little to no reason—his twin would have fulfilled his promises to him just fine, and he could always sell his services to someone else. It is not so surprising that Bloodraven had to manipulate him to actually get Highgarden; he had taken the offer half in jest anyway.

He wonders, though, how much the man-boy had to trick Brienne into abandoning her duty to Tarth in order to join his Kingsguard. The woman he loves would not make such a decision fleetingly, not when she fought so hard to fulfill her promises to a dead lady.

"Why put Brienne in his Kingsguard?", he asks. At his side, Cersei snickers.

"She is loyal past the point of sense, wouldn't you agree?", Shiera replies. "Brynden deemed her easy to manipulate. Not to mention, she brought Podrick Payne—another impressionable person—along."

"But why does he want so many people easily amenable to him", Daenerys asks, "if he's already king?"

"To avoid rebellions", she replies immediately. "The next few years will be vital for Bran Stark's hold on the throne and his life. Having an influential—and _docile_ —Small Council will tame rebels down. All of his reforms will be praised, and no one will question his decisions. Years go by, he doesn't die, all hail Bran the Broken, Bran the Wise, Bran _the Immortal_. City by city, kingdom by kingdom, everyone falls under his spell. He will never be questioned or confronted, only praised and obeyed. No risk of ever getting killed, which, as I mentioned before, it's his only weakness. He lives—and rules—forever."

She says those words calmly, as if she isn't predicting the biggest tragedy imaginable. He has no doubts as to why he must bring him down, as Kinvara said back in Volantis. But there is still something he doesn't understand.

"Why are you telling us all of this?", he asks. "It's clear that you don't want Bloodraven to succeed. Kinvara implied you wanted us to get rid of him… but why? What difference does it make to you?"

Shiera looks down at her cup. She doesn't answer right away, and when she does, it's quietly. "I'm sure you've heard the saying, 'be careful with what you wish for'. Well, I got my wish for eternal youth and beauty… and _I regretted it_. I've been looking for ways to get Brynden killed so I can finally rest in peace, especially after all I've done here."

He wants to ask what she's done to make her so tired of living, but there are more urgent matters to press on. "So you want us to kill Bloodraven, so you can die?"

She nods. "Like I said, my reasons to call you here are selfish. But I also believe him to be a danger to Westeros. Should he really be allowed to live and rule forever, and turn all of your loved ones into mindless minions?"

There is no question. "No", he says, followed by Daenerys and Cersei echoing him. "He must be brought down."

Shiera smiles over her cup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things before people start to trash me for this. A story, original or fanfic, does not necessarily reflect the author's view - in this case, on the canon story. This is an AU where Bloodraven manipulated events for his own gain. That being said:  
> \- Do I believe Jaime would push Bran on his own volition? Yes.  
> \- Do I believe Tyrion had to be tricked into killing Tywin? No.  
> \- Do I believe Theon needed to be manipulated to betray the Starks in favor of his blood family? No.  
> \- Do I believe Joffrey fully capable of sentencing someone to death because he felt like it? Yes.  
> \- Do I believe Aerys could have gone mad without outside interference? Yes.  
> \- Do I believe Cersei capable of having the Sept exploded all by herself? Yes.  
> However, all of those things were awfully convenient for Bloodraven. So, in this AU, it makes sense that he was behind all of them, even if he didn't really have to interfere.  
> What I do NOT believe:  
> \- That Jaime would go to save the woman who tried to kill him twice and leave Brienne the way he did. If he wanted to save her unborn child, he'd have called for help because he is not as stupid as Cersei believes him to be. If he was thinking of wildfire, he'd have Tyrion remind Daenerys of its existence. Self-hatred and a belief that he should die with Cersei are not enough in my eyes.  
> \- That Daenerys would burn the very city she meant to conquer after its citizens surrendered. There are, like, a dozen other ways to have KL burned, and they picked the least logical route.  
> \- That Grey Worm would not know that Naath is dangerous to non-natives, or worse, that he willingly led his entire army to death.  
> \- That Arya would leave Gendry on the sole basis that she 'is not a lady' and would suddenly want to be an explorer.  
> \- That Brienne would abandon her duties as sole heir to Tarth and join the Kingsguard of a boy she barely knows - or even that she'd stand sobbing hopelessly while Jaime rode to his certain death.  
> \- That Bronn would accept being Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Reach and Warden of the South. Bronn wanted a castle and a wife to live the rest of his days lazily and in peace. He would not accept the amount of work that comes with Highgarden - not to mention all the effort required to be accepted by the other houses of the Reach, as he has no Tyrell blood. I hardly think he'd accept the position of Master of Coin either.  
> \- That Sansa would vouch for an independent North with Bran as king.  
> \- That Jon's sentence was not annulled as soon as the Unsullied left Westeros. They were the only ones asking for justice. Robert Baratheon pardoned Jaime for killing Aerys without knowing about the wildfire, so why wouldn't Jon be, when Dany already killed thousands of innocents? (Not to mention that the existence of the Wall and the Night's Watch no longer makes sense.)
> 
> If you have any questions, feel free to ask. We'll find more about Shiera's story, as well as other details, in chapter 5. Chapter 4 is focused on Arya.


	4. Sunset Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya thinks on her life choices as she sails across the Sunset Sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first part of what I'm calling 'worldbuilding porn'. I refrained myself from giving too many details, as they are not exactly important, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! The end notes features some explanations.

It's a good thing she thought of bringing a small crew and filling the ship with non perishable food, as well as more water than alcohol. Despite the good winds, it seems she will never find anything but more and more ocean water. The steadiness in the view only fuels her regrets. As soon as she could no longer see the coast, she regretted her decision and the ones that led to it.

First of them, her rejection of Gendry's proposal. She indeed has little interest in being a lady, but that wasn't _really_ what he was asking, was it? She could see in his eyes what he desired: her. The addition of her title was merely to argue she'd not soil her name with him—as if she'd care. He wanted her as she was, and she _wanted_ him as he was. She should have accepted it—but no, she gave in to the whispers in her mind that said she was not meant for such a life.

But neither was Gendry, was he? He grew up as a nobody, earning his keep as a talented smith, no thoughts of lordship or noble life. Hells, he didn't even have a family to speak of; when he finally found out who his father was, he was long dead. He was as meant to be a lord as she was to be a lady. They could have figured it out together. She'd gladly be with him if they were to live out in the open, with no food or shelter guaranteed; why refuse him when they'd have a featherbed and all their needs satisfied at a moment's notice?

 _I think I love him_ , she realizes, _and, had I stayed, I'd probably be sure of it by now._ She offered to be his family, all those years ago, and yet said no when he offered the same—worse, after leading him to believe that was precisely what she wanted from him. After all, wasn't that the message she gave him when she asked him to take her maidenhead?

Her body feels warm at the memory. They had only done it once, at first afraid the horn would blow in the middle of the act if they repeated it, and then because they silently decided a nap before the battle would be a good idea (it was). Still, being with Gendry revealed something within her she had not realized until now. Before they laid together, she had classified her feelings as attraction. She desired him—how could she not? Only when she fulfilled her desire she realized its origins.

Her last years were spent alone, all by herself, but she most needed company—when she was a lost child, grieving her recently killed father—Gendry was there. He teased her and treated her with kindness. She loved him for it then, and she's pretty sure she loves him for it now.

Her mistakes with Gendry are heavy enough, but it didn't stop there. Going after Cersei is not something she really regrets. To be entirely honest, she thinks the evil queen should have gotten a more… dramatic death than being uncerimoniously burned by wildfire with her brother—who, by the way, should have stayed in Winterfell with the woman he was obviously in love with, but who is she to berate him for stupid choices when it comes to love anyway. Arya would have gladly granted her a proper death, but Sandor _had_ to give her that heartfelt speech and urge her to live beyond revenge.

She got her chance on a silver plate when Sansa and Gendry showed up in King's Landing for the Great Council—or, Medium-Sized Council, now that she thinks about it. She could have apologized to him and accepted his proposal; she'd stay in Storm's End, near Bran. Or, even if their opportunity had passed, she could have followed Sansa to Winterfell and help her rule—perhaps be her Hand, or her guard. She could have even followed Jon to the ruined Wall, if she wanted freedom so much. But _no_. She has a sudden urge to _find out what's west of Westeros._

History already has the answer, come to think about it. Elissa Farman did the same thing centuries ago—though she sailed from Oldtown, while Arya sailed from Deepwood Motte—and found three isles southwest of the Iron Islands, which she named after the three Targaryen conquerors. Then, rumour has it that Corlys Velaryon, one of the greatest explorers in history, found a ship similar to hers in Asshai. Essos is what's west of Westeros, and she's an idiot if she thinks she'll find anything else.

She realized all of this too late, though; they can't turn back, not after going so far, and she doubts her crew will be pleased if she orders them to do so. These men and women were as eager to leave Westeros as she was. By now she knew all their stories enough to guess they'd rather die in the ocean than go back to a place which holds so many bad memories.

_I have bad memories in Westeros, too, but not enough for me not to regret leaving. I miss Sansa, Jon, Gendry, Bran…_

Although Bran is not really Bran anymore. She heard it from his own mouth, and later saw it with her own eyes when he accepted the crown as Bran the Broken. An exchange of glances with Sansa told her she also noticed it: their brother would have taken insult with such a title, but the Three-Eyed Raven looked _proud_.

His vacant stares and his perpetually emotionless expression cemented it as well. He seemed unfazed when bidding his goodbyes to his family, as if he was saying farewell to a random lord of a distant castle. It bore no difference from how he'd speak to, say, Prince Quentyn Martell—whose survival, along with his sister's, was a shock to everyone who heard of the massacre led by the Sand Snakes.

She sighs, turning away from the ocean and heading to her cabin. It's not the first time her mind goes away on these thoughts and dwellings, and they never go anywhere. She ought to get over herself by now.

* * *

Days turn into fortnights, which turn into months, which turns into almost a year when they finally see land. There barely seems to be a coast, though, instead there are—

"Are those trees?", she asks the captain.

Captain Larissa is a bastard from the riverlands who made her way up, financially speaking, as a sailor across the rivers and the Sunset Sea. She has always dreamed of sailing across the world, and had nobody waiting for her at home. She knows all there is to know about Essos, including the easternmost lands. "Yes", she replies. "I believe we're to land in Mossovy."

She frowns. "What do you know of this land?"

"Not much", Larissa admits. "And the little I've heard isn't good. A dark forest full of skinchangers and demon hunters—which means there are demons to hunt there." She sighs. "I was aiming for Asshai, to be honest. Or Ulthos."

"We can go there anyway", she offers. "All we need is to find a river that goes deep into the continent and find our way there. Or go by land anyway. I don't have anywhere else to be, do you?"

She chuckles. "No, I do not. I believe we should sail past Mossovy, though, even if we are in dire need of supplies and repairs. If we go a bit further, we will find the so-called Thousand Isles, which is closer to civilization."

Arya nods. "Talk to your men about it", she suggests. "Even after almost a year, I still trust their judgement better than my own."

It's true; although she learned a lot about ships and such, her experience is slim next to those who spent years abroad. Larissa excuses herself to find the others, and she's left alone to admire the forest coast. Part of her wants to moor there regardless, but if the dauntless Larissa is wary of that land, she will keep her mouth shut.

* * *

Although the Thousand Isles are not actually _a thousand_ , according to her captain, they really feel like it. The amount of times they almost hit one of the giant rocks people call 'islands' is concerningly high, but they make it to the shore, finding themselves in Nefer, according to Larissa's maps.

"I mean, the city's reputation is not the best either", she says, "but at least it is said to be mostly underground, so I don't think we'll face much trouble."

"Except for communicating with the locals, you mean", one of the sailors, a Northman named Tohrren, warns.

"We'll manage", Larissa replies dismissively. "I'm sure hand signs are universal."

As it turns out, they are not _entirely_ universal. Larissa manages to insult at least five locals while asking where they can a river to navigate through, and another three while asking for help with ship repairs. It's easier to ask for food, although they face another problem with coin. A fish seller points to a small building, which, they find out, it's a currency exchange house. She had first heard of those in Braavos, thanks to the multiple origins of travelers, but had never actually dealt with one. Since none of her companions have either, they are forced to trust the pale woman, who doesn't speak their tongue despite seemingly knowing their coin.

It takes two days for them to buy enough supplies and another four to fully repair the ship. They mostly stay inside, all feeling insecure to wander further than the docks, but Gerion—a young man from the West who wandered north after losing his family to Daenerys' forces in the Second Field of Fire—finds a way to get a whore for himself. "I guess whores _are_ universal, huh", she jokes to Larissa, who guffaws.

They discover a river on their seventh day. With a fully repaired ship, they felt ready to sail up the river, even though it was against its course. Naturally, it was a slow journey, but what was that in comparison to several months in the middle of the sea without a single piece of land in sight? At least now they had a landscape to appreciate.

"Oh, look", Gerion exclaims one day. "Are those the Dothraki?"

"Probably not", Larissa replies, frowning. Arya squints her eyes to see a large horde of riders in the far desert. "Must be the Jogos Nhai."

"The what?"

The captain promptly starts to give them all a lesson about the nomad people of northern east Essos—who don't ride horses, but zorses. "I think I saw one in Westeros", Arya comments. "Harrenhal? Yes, I think so. Striped black and white, right?"

She vaguely remembers seeing one of the Brave Companions riding a black-and-white mount in the forsaken castle. When Larissa nods affirmatively, she grins at her memory's competence.

After a few days, they find a small mass of water. "The Bleeding Sea", Larissa points out. "We take a short break here, I think, while we look for an easier river to go south."

They don't dock anywhere, though, choosing rather to stay still in the middle of the sea, enjoying the calm weather and letting themselves be lulled into sleep by the rhythmic waves.

* * *

A moon after they landed in Nefer, the ship reaches the end of the river in the YiTish city of Jinqi. Larissa suggests they stay there for a couple days for preventive repairs and restock of supplies. "Hopefully it will be easier for us here", she says. "Evie speaks High Valyrian, which might help."

Like Gerion, Evie is from the West; unlike him, she's of noble birth, being born in the Fair Isle—she never gave them her last name, but Arya is pretty sure the island is the home of House Farman. Regardless, she claims to have been taught High Valyrian as part of her noble education, which is odd, but useful, so she won't question her.

It's tough, but eventually Evie finds someone who speaks High Valyrian. After a long talk, she comes back. "He gave me a list of stores and inns where we can find people who speak High Valyrian. I think we can spend a few days exploring the city, what do you guys think?"

"If our captain agrees", Arya replies, "I'm up for it."

Larissa also agrees, and the others cheer at the prospect.

* * *

Jinqi is unlike every city she's ever seen. Colorful and bright, even at nighttime, the city burst with sound and life at any given moment.

The so-called 'inn' is larger than any of the kind she's seen in Westeros, and her travel companions say the same. A 'small room' fits four of them, and she shares hers with Larissa, Evie and Sara, a northern woman who used to own a brothel and sailed with them out of boredom. There are numerous options for breakfast, and she tastes each dish at least once in her stay.

Half of the dishes they find for lunch and supper is served with saffron, but she's not complaining. Evie trades torn fabric from clothes used by them at their early voyage days for enough silk to make sleeveless shirts for everybody. However, she is advised to make long-sleeved ones if they mean to stay in Yi Ti. "They just got out of a grey plague outbreak", she explains, "and they wear long sleeves and gloves to protect themselves against the skin-to-skin contact."

Larissa frowns. "If that's the case, we should leave soon."

They agree, and although the men are sad to go, they are easily convinced when Evie mentions the grey plague. _Men fear greyscale more than battle_ , she muses, chuckling.

"Where to, now?", Tohrren asks.

Larissa glances at Arya, who nods. Then, she smiles. "Asshai."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All places and people mentioned exist in book canon, although they are mostly discussed in 'The World of Ice and Fire', a companion book which, at least in my city, is a rare find. You can check most information in the Wiki of Ice and Fire though.  
> \- Originally, I'd have Arya sail to Asshai straight away, but when I checked the maps, I realized it wouldn't make sense. Elisa Farman reached Asshai because she sailed from southern Westeros; if you trace a straight line, you fall in the shadowlands. Since Arya sailed from the North, a straight line lands in Mossovy.  
> \- There is no information regarding any civilization or city in Mossovy, which is why I had them go to Nefer instead, which is know as The Secret City for being 90% underground. I wanted to have them explore this part of the city, but it wouldn't make sense for them to be able to do it when the only other language any of them is fluent in is High Valyrian, which I doubt is spoken in that part of Essos.  
> \- The maps of Essos show rivers connecting Nefer to the Bleeding Sea and said sea to Jinqi.  
> \- YiTi as a whole is known for exporting saffron and silk, among other stuff. The nation is also described to be ostentous and large in every way.  
> \- The grey plague outbreak is mentioned in an excerpt of Winds of Winter, in one of Arianne's chapters. Considering the timeline, it's plausible to think that, by Season 8's time, it would have been contained already (although I belive this grey plague is tied to supernatural threats in canon).


	5. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa receives important guests in her home, getting and passing information in the process.

"Your Grace", one of her personal handmaidens calls. "Lady Meera Reed arrived."

She smiles and nods. "Thank you, Wylla, I'll be outside shortly."

When she's left alone again, she goes to the mirror to adjust her crown and fix her hair. She had summoned Meera a moon ago, after remembering her presence at Bran's side when he came back from the lands beyond the Wall. _She's the last person to see my brother as himself_ , she realized then. _She's my best source of information about what happened to him._

Every now and then, she re-reads Ser Jaime's letter to Brienne in order to remind herself of all the questions she has about the situation she has before her: Bran lied to the entire realm, and most notably to Tyrion, about the Lannister twins' deaths. Cersei Lannister is pregnant with Euron Greyjoy's child. Jaime Lannister loves Brienne of Tarth and has no memories of leaving her—this means something important, she's sure of it. Is she missing anything? Any other signs that may point out to a bigger picture that would help her understand the situation at hand?

At night, she has trouble falling asleep, thinking of possible connections of all those events. She has no idea of how powerful Bran is. He can look into the past and present, but can he look into someone's mind? He can see the future, but is it clear, or just flashes?

She saw him trick Littlefinger into thinking he had the upper hand over her and Arya, only to aid them into catching him guilty of several crimes punishable by death. Did he only use his words, and did he go inside his mind to manipulate him? Can he do that?

Sighing, she leaves her room to meet Meera. She won't get answers by dwelling on what she knows and doesn't know over and over again. She needs more information.

* * *

Lady Meera claims not to be tired, but her posture makes her wonder if she's just too anxious to do anything else before talking to her. She asks for a servant to prepare a small meal for the duo and guides her to the solar.

"Lady Meera, I thank you for coming here on such short notice", she begins. "I know the journey across the entire North isn't easy these days, with winter still going strong."

"When I read your letter, Your Grace, I couldn't waste a single moment without riding here", she admits. "You may not have been straightforward—it'd be dangerous to do otherwise—but I understood enough of it to know what you meant."

Sansa takes a sharp breath. She was as vague as possible in her letter, afraid not only of it being read by the wrong people in Greywater Watch, but also of the possibility of Bran finding out through the raven she used to send it. She's strongly considered using a rider to deliver the message, but decided against it due to her own anxiety. Delivering the letter through a rider would be twice as risky, and it would take twice as long for her to get an answer. "Then you know this meeting is about my brother—or rather, whatever occupies my brother's body nowadays."

"Not a _whatever_ , Your Grace", Lady Meera replies without hesitation, "but a _whoever_. Bran is indeed no longer himself. He might still be there, deep down, but he hasn't shown up for some time. His body is commanded by Bloodraven."

Sansa nearly falls off her chair. " _Bloodraven_? My lady, you are talking about a dead man."

Lady Meera shakes her head vehemently. "No, Your Grace. I _saw_ him. Bloodraven was the previous Three-Eyed Raven. He trained Bran, but…" She stands up and begins to pace. "We spent several months in a cave. My brother Jojen died to get us there, believing it to be the right thing to do. Bran and I were with Hodor at the time… Well, we found Bloodraven lying on the ground, surrounded by tree branches and leaves. He trained your brother to become the next Three-Eyed Raven.

"At first, I thought his intentions were benevolent. We needed the Raven to defeat the White Walkers, and his body was deteriorating. He had to pass the mantle to someone else before he died and deprived the world of the Raven's powers. But then…" She shakes her head, as if her memories still moved her deeply. Maybe they do. "Bran stood in front of the Night King. I don't really know how he did it, but the point is… the Night King touched him. It left a mark on his arm, and shortly after that, we were ambushed by a horde of wights. I did not understand what happened at the time, but that was when Bran changed."

Sansa frowns. She knows about the Night King's mark on Bran's wrist. He claimed it was a tracker, enabling his enemy to find him wherever he was. Lady Meera seems to view that mark differently, though. "Do you understand what happened now?"

She nods. "Usually, when the Night King touched a living being, they became a White Walker. He did not come in contact with Bran long enough for it to happen, but it left his body vulnerable to… possession, so to speak. Bloodraven took advantage of it and stole Bran's body from him."

She gasps. "How—how did you come to this conclusion?"

"There are books about it in my family's castle", she replies immediately. "When I told my father what happened, he grew suspicious of Bloodraven's true intentions, and forbade me from coming back to fight in the Long Night. Instead, we sat down and read all the books we could find about the White Walkers, the Three-Eyed Raven, possessions… and many other things believed to be mere legend until recently. There weren't _many_ books, but what we had was enough to draw conclusions, which now I share with you, Your Grace."

She shakes her head. Despite everything she's seen lately, Lady Meera's words still sound surreal. "And what does this… possession entails? And how are you so sure Bran is _possessed_ by _Bloodraven_?"

Finally, Lady Meera sits back down. "I _know_ Bran. I know who he is, how he talks, how he moves, how he treats people. I…" She nearly chokes. "I was halfway in love with him when—when Bloodraven took over him, and suddenly the boy I knew was gone, replaced by an empty shadow. I did not realize it then—I thought it was shock, or something, due to all we've gone through." A pause. "Hodor died to enable our escape. I thought his change in behavior had something to do with it. But then… he just dismissed me, when I went to say goodbye. That's—I knew something was wrong, but I could not tell what. Only when I studied it did I realize it."

Sansa can almost hear her heart breaking. Her brother had come so close to finding love, and, as it seems, a man supposed to be dead took it all from him. "I'm sorry", she says sincerely. "I—I may not know what exactly you've gone through, but I know what it's like to lose someone you love." Her mind threatens to drift to Theon, but she shakes the thought off. It still hurts too much to think of him.

Lady Meera hangs her head low. "But you asked how a possession works. There aren't many details, but… the Three-Eyed Raven's powers are mind-based. They use their minds to travel across space and time, and they warg into the minds of animals and people. They only need bodies to stay alive, but they don't need it to function like we do—they can be blind, deaf, crippled, confined to bed rest… Bloodraven could barely move, and he used Bran's crippling to lure him to his trap. He told him that, although he'd never walk, he could fly. What kid would not fall for it?"

Sansa feels her eyes burning, but stays quiet; Lady Meera is not finished. "A possession is when a… mind, or a soul—whatever you want to call it—wargs permanently into another body and takes over it completely. The host's mind may or may not be obliterated in the process, but regardless, their body is no longer theirs to control."

Now her tears fall openly. _Bran may be truly dead then_ , she realizes. _Either that, or he's stuck in a body he cannot control, only watch helplessly as Bloodraven does unspeakable things_ — _this might be even worse than death._

"How can we save him, my lady?", she blurts out, desperation creeping in.

Lady Meera raises her head. Her eyes are sad. "I wish I knew a way to _rescue_ him", she replies quietly. "But, so far, all I've found is about _killing_ the possessed body."

* * *

After a whole day of locking herself in her room to cry, Sansa leaves it to go the sept. It had been mostly destroyed in the many battles held in Winterfell, but she commissioned its rebuilding soon after her coronation. A handful of Southern soldiers chose to stay in Wintertown after the Long Night, and another handful left their homes to seek new ones in the North following the destruction of King's Landing. There aren't enough septons to build many new septs, but at least the one in Winterfell she can rebuild, and allow entrance to followers of the Faith of the Seven.

The need for reconstruction became more urgent as Sansa grew afraid of praying in the godswood. Many of the weirwood trees were burned and cut off over the years, but there were still enough of them for Bran— _Bloodraven_ —to see through them if he so desires. Since half of her prayers nowadays involve him, she finds it safer to do them in the safety of a treeless sept.

There are some builders working when she arrives. They all stop what they're doing to bow to her, and she greets them with polite smiles. Then, she walks to the best preserved part of the sept—and the one least covered in dust—and, kneeling, begins to pray.

She begs to the old gods and the news just as vigorously. _Show me a way to rescue my brother_ , she asks. _I cannot let Bloodraven keep hold of his body, and I want my Bran back. Please, show me a way in which he can live!_

Nothing comes, and she leaves the sept as empty as she felt when she got in. She summons Lady Meera for breakfast. There are still questions to be answered, and a favor to ask.

At first, they eat in silence after exchanging the mandatory pleasantries. Halfway through their meal, though, Sansa begins her questioning. "My lady, there is something that still troubles me with its uncertainty. _Why_ did Bloodraven possess my brother's body?"

As Lady Meera swallows her portion, her face falls. "That's the only thing I don't know the answer to, Your Grace", she replies. "Bloodraven was… unassuming for the entire time I've acquainted with him, which is why I never suspected a thing until it was too late."

Oh. Sansa lowers her head to her plate. Had she been too hopeful to get answers to all of her questions?

Lady Meera's voice calls her back to reality. "May I ask _you_ a question, Your Grace?"

"Of course", she replies, turning her focus to the lady.

"How did you come to be suspicious of him?"

She sighs. "I've been wary of Bran since you brought him back", she admits. "Like you said, he was nothing like the brother I knew. With the Night King practically knocking on our door, though, I was mostly grateful that we had someone with his powers by our side.

"After it was over, though, things got progressively stranger. Despite claiming that he could never be lord 'of anything', Bran was oddly interested in Southern politics. And then—and then the… _disaster_ in King's Landing happened, we were summoned to a Great Council, and when Lord Tyrion vouched for Bran, he acted like it had been his plan all along!"

Lady Meera tilts her head. "Maybe it was", she says. "Bloodraven is a Targaryen bastard. I don't think it would be far-fetched to assume the Iron Throne was his goal all along. He needed Bran's body to make the journey south, that much is clear."

Sansa squeezes her eyes shut. "But that's not what made me suspicious of him", she continues, determined to think about the lady's words _later_. "I mean, I was wary of him, as I told you at the start, but could not think of any ill intentions on his part until… Until I came back from the capital and found a letter from Volantis."

"Volantis?", Lady Meera sounds startled, not that she blames her. "Do you know anyone there?"

"No, and the letter was not addressed to me. It was to my former sworn shield, Ser Brienne of Tarth."

" _Ser_? I thought women could not be knights."

At that, she lets a small smile escape from her lips. "Jaime Lannister knighted her right before the battle", she explains. "I—her story is too long to tell you now, my lady, but she's a formidable fighter and a most honorable woman. She deserved the title more than anyone I've ever met, and I'm glad Ser Jaime saw to it.

"And… well, that's where things get messed up. Ser Jaime didn't knight her _only_ because she deserved it. It was also an act of love."

At that, Lady Meera raises her eyebrows. "Even in the Neck we've heard about the Kingslayer's long-time affair with his sister. Are you telling me he fell in love with another?"

"Yes", she replies instantly. She has absolutely no doubts about it anymore. "After the battle, they fell in bed together, and stayed as such for a whole month. Even when Daenerys Targaryen marched to King's Landing to face Cersei, he stayed behind with Ser Brienne."

"Did he not die in the capital?", Lady Meera interrupts. "How can that be, if he stayed behind?"

Sansa's face falls. "He ended up going", she admits. "He left Ser Brienne in tears with his sudden rejection. I did not understand it at first—he looked so content with her, my lady, one would think it was only a matter of time until they wedded. And he proved himself to have become a much better man over time, so I had no qualms about him and my sworn sword together. That he hurt her like he did to ride back to his sister…"

She shakes her head. Reminiscing her previous anger at Ser Jaime is useless now. "And here comes the problem. The letter addressed to Ser Brienne was not from anyone _from_ Volantis, but from someone who was there _temporarily._ When I started to read it, I recognized the handwriting immediately, and the signature at the end confirmed it. The letter was from Ser Jaime."

Lady Meera straightens herself up. "You mean he did not die in King's Landing?"

"No, and neither did his sister. He managed to smuggle her out of the Red Keep and the city. However, the letter made it clear he had forgotten all his journey from Winterfell to King's Landing, and he was completely clueless as to why he was with Cersei instead of Ser Brienne." Lady Meera gasps, and she goes on. "He guessed he was there for her unborn child—apparently, she got pregnant by Euron Greyjoy—and promised to go back to her as soon as possible. And then, because I was not shocked enough, he ended the letter saying that he loved her, that she should not question his devotion to her because of this 'quest', and that he wanted to marry her when he gets back."

"Fuck", the lady lets out.

"Indeed", she agrees. "I was really shaken, but… It was Bran who told us the Lannister twins had perished in the flames. When I read Ser Jaime's letter, it was impossible to deny that my brother _lied_ to the entire realm about it. From then on, my mind got plagued with questions. Why would he do it? Why doesn't Ser Jaime remember leaving his lady love and riding to his sister? _Why did he leave_ , if he loved her as much as he claims?"

Lady Meera finishes her glass of juice. Her eyes are wide and frantic, as if she's thinking hard about what she just heard. Finally, she speaks up. "If Bloodraven was really aiming for the Iron Throne, he had to make sure there were no rival claimants. House Lannister held it for years, so he had to ensure people would, at least, think them dead." She taps her fingers on the table. "I won't rule out that he warged into Ser Jaime's mind to drive him away from Winterfell and ride to his death. How he ended up surviving, though…"

"Well, I'm glad he did", she says, standing up. "Otherwise, I would not be privy to all of this information. I don't know _what_ exactly I'll do, but… Bloodraven cannot stay on the throne, nor in my brother's body. He must be stopped."

* * *

Later, Lady Meera assured her they are indeed safe from his wandering eyes up north. "He cannot go beyond the Neck, Your Grace", she explains. "We surround the place with powerful magic to avoid intruders, and he counts as such. That being said, I believe it's wise to avoid the godswood, indeed."

She nods in thanks. "Do you think… he might be controlling his subjects in the South?"

"If he wants to seize power, it's likely. He needs loyal subjects to avoid being kicked out."

She agreed to linger for a while longer in order for them to come up with a plan to stop Bran, but Sansa doubts the two of them will be able to do much without help. _I must find Jon_ , she thinks, going once again over all the merits of his punishment. _If Bloodraven wanted to get rid of competition, what better way than exile the last Targaryen to the Wall?_

She already wanted to ask Lady Meera for that particular favour, so that's what she does. Lady Meera agrees wholeheartedly.

"I was also thinking of inviting Ser Brienne here", she adds. "We are friends, and she did promise to visit. I can summon her here under the pretense of fulfilling that promise."

"What do you plan to do with her, Your Grace?", she asks, wariness in her voice. "It isn't safe for her to know the truth—about her king, about her lost love… If Bloodraven finds out—"

"That's not what I'm planning to do, no", she refutes immediately. "I'm working on a way to assure her that Ser Jaime indeed loved her. Her grief and her heartbreak are what drove her to the Kingsguard. If I manage to shake the latter off… She may begin to question her role in the court. After all, if a man loved her once, surely another can, right? And she has a duty to her house as well, one she's forsaking in the Kingsguard."

"You want to prepare her in case Ser Jaime comes back alive, don't you?"

"That too. Ser Jaime will obviously be unsafe in the South. If she finds out he's alive, knowing he loved her, it might be easy to sway her to our side. Who knows, I might be able to bring her here regardless."

Lady Meera grins. "I like the way you think, Your Grace. Let's hope it all goes according to plan."

* * *

Brienne arrives three fortnights after Lady Meera's departure. Their first sennight together is filled with rather small talk, in which one updated the other on their current lives.

Despite the trouble in finding people willing to join the Kingsguard, Bran did not concede in changing their vows. "Not that anyone tried too hard", she admits. "One 'no' from His Grace, and everyone would shut up—even Ser Bronn, who usually never does."

Uh-oh. She doesn't like that. _Is Bloodraven controlling the court to avoid questioning his decisions?_

The same pattern applies to other disagreements, minor or major. Although it's not unusual for a king's orders to be followed unquestioningly, to have those shut down unceremoniously irks her. A king must have counselors not only to advise him when he doesn't know what to do, but to talk him out of bad ideas.

Prying into Brienne's personal life is even harder than usual. She claims she lives and breathes for her job, and there is no room for anything—or anyone—else. "Pod is knighted; he serves in the Kingsguard with me. I have nobody to look after except for the king."

She sounds sad when she says it, though. Sansa tries to ask her about her love life, but is gently shut down. "I swore celibacy vows", she claims.

"Your vows don't forbid you from falling in love, Ser", she reminds her softly, hoping it will drive her to the subject she's aiming at.

"But _I_ vowed to never let myself fall in love again", she replies sternly.

Sansa lets herself grin slightly. " _Again_ , Brienne? So I was right in assuming you were… _in love_ , here in Winterfell?"

Although her former sworn shield—and _friend_ —never said the words out loud, it was noticeable from her cries that she hadn't been abandoned by a 'fuck buddy' (as one of her soldiers eloquently put it out once), but by the man she loved.

Brienne's face closes off. "Your Grace, I'm sorry, but this is not a subject I'm fond of."

Sansa reaches for her arm. "I know, Brienne, but… I think we must." There it goes… "For I found something that… would be of your interest. About Ser Jaime."

Brienne lowers her head. "I don't think—"

"I was emptying the chambers he had been assigned to in his stay", she goes on, holding her wrist tightly. Brienne would not run away from this, not when Sansa rehearsed her half-lie so thoroughly. "I did not expect to find anything important, given he barely used the room, but… I found a letter."

Brienne raises her head abruptly to look at her. _Good._ "I read it to see if it was… addressed to Cersei. See if he had begun to plot anything with her before leaving. But no, Brienne, the letter was addressed to you."

"To _me_? How—I was always here, by his side. There was no need for him to write a _letter_ when he could say whatever he wanted in person."

"I know, I know." She takes a deep breath. It was hard to decide which parts of his letter she'd share and how, but she thinks this is the best way. "He did write that he should not have to resort to a letter to pour his heart out to you."

" _What_?"

"Brienne… that letter was a love declaration", she says as softly as she can. "Apparently, it was written in the middle of the month you spent together. It implied you had already spent many nights in each other's arms, but he made it very clear he wanted to spend every single night with you, and wake up next to you every morning. He listed all kinds of things he wanted to do with you—and I'm not talking about sex, Ser, but of things married couples do. That people _in love_ with each other do. He… he said he wanted to propose to you, but did not think it was fair of him to tie you to him while Cersei was still alive."

Brienne's eyes go even wider. She continues, unwilling to wait for a verbal reaction. "He insisted his sister no longer owned his heart, for it was yours now, but said she was still his sister, and the thought of her death troubled him." She had considered mentioning Cersei's pregnancy, but decided against it in the end. If this is not public knowledge in King's Landing, she doesn't want Blooraven to know. "He said that, as much as he was living the best life with you here, he felt guilty for abandoning her. He seemed to want your advice on that regard, Ser; there were many questions about it, as if he was asking you what to do. But he still insisted _you_ were the love of his life, and that it was _you_ he wanted to spend the rest of his days with."

By now, tears are openly falling from her friend's eye. "Where—where is this letter, Your Grace?"

Sansa shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Brienne. But—I was on my way to bring the letter to my drawers and safeguard it until your visit when I collided with a servant carrying a jar of water. The parchment was destroyed beyond repair. I'm so sorry."

"I—I understand", she replies quietly. "Your Grace, may I—"

"Of course, Ser. Just… don't venture into the godswood. We are making repairs there, so it won't be comfortable."

* * *

When Brienne leaves, two days later, Sansa makes sure to invite her to come back soon. "I miss having someone I trust as much as I trust you", she confesses—and it's the plain truth. "Now that I'm without family here by my side… I miss a friend."

"You'll always have a friend in me, Your Grace", she assures quickly. "And… thank you, for telling me about Ser Jaime."

She nods. "You deserved to know, Brienne. It would be unfair of me not to tell you something so important." She takes a deep breath. "Your love was not unrequited. You don't have to feel guilty for mourning him."

She doesn't respond to that, just nods and leaves. _I'm sorry I did not disclose the whole truth, my friend, but if Bloodraven can really get inside your mind, I can't risk him knowing._


	6. Asshai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fragments of a life in the Shadowlands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the chapter you've been waiting for since... chapter 3, I think xD  
> This part 2 of my 'worldbuidling porn'. I got really excited with imagining Asshai, especially because it's a place surrounded in myth in Westeros.  
> However, I must say I ended up writing things I never imagined writing before in my life. I hope you find them... fun, at least? xD  
> Well, on to the chapter!

In the end, they decide to trust Shiera and wait for Arya to arrive. According to the woman, she's still in the middle of the Sunset Sea, though, and even with her assistance, it will take a while for her to sail past some land. "I think you will spend six months here still", she estimates. "When she reaches Essos, she will sail by Mossovy first, so she has to make the journey south to come here."

"How can you be so sure she will, then?", Daenerys asks. "You said you cannot influence anyone's minds."

"And indeed I can't", she insists. "But I can get inside them, and Lady Arya's captain dreams of visiting Asshai. Besides", she adds, placing the last dish in the washer, "there isn't much for her in Northern Essos. None of her crew knows the tongues spoken there, and I doubt she wants to return to Braavos anytime soon."

Cersei asks why, and Shiera briefly explains Arya got trained under the Faceless Men, but left the House of Black and White before completing her training, because she did not want to let go of her identity. "She knows almost all of their tricks, but without paying the price for them. Braavos is the last place she wants to set foot on, and, if she's wise, she'll avoid the Free Cities altogether. Eastern Essos is the safest zone for her."

Without another word, she begins to wash the dishes from breakfast. Cersei excuses herself to her room, claiming to be tired—a claim he believes this time, given what he remembers from her previous pregnancies. Not turning to them, Shiera suddenly says, "You'll have to earn your living here, you know."

He frowns and glances at Daenerys, who looks just as confused. "What do you mean?"

"I cannot afford to provide for three adults and a newborn", she explains. "I may get more than enough money to live, but not _that_ much, and I need it to make shield necklaces for you all."

"Shield necklaces?", Daenerys echoes.

At that, Shiera interrupts her dishwashing and turns to them. "This", she says, lifting her necklace up for them to see. It's hard to make out details, but its pendant appears to be red. "I made it decades ago, when I realized what Bloodraven was doing. I did not want him to know I was spying on him, and later that I was plotting our collective demise, so I put spells that protect my mind against him, as long as I wear it."

"I suppose you never take it off, then", he guesses.

"Exactly", she replies. "You don't have to wear it here in Essos. His powers don't reach here; I only protect myself due to our bond. But, as soon as the Westerosi coast is in your sights, you must wear it all times. Otherwise, he will know of your presence, and you'll be again vulnerable to his machinations." She lets the necklace fall back on her chest and turns back to her previous task. "In six months, I can make dozens of them, but buying the materials is costly. I'll need additional income to keep this house going, so both of you must take jobs. Cersei too, after she gives birth."

He clears his throat. "My lady, I don't mind working to earn my keep", he says, "but _how_ are we supposed to find jobs if we don't speak the native tongue?"

"I'll help you", she replies easily. "Foreigners come to spend a season in Asshai all the time, and like you, they need jobs to survive their stay. There is… what can I call it… _employment agency_ of sorts, three streets down. They help foreigners find jobs according to their skills and which tongues they are fluent in. I'll take you there later."

Once again, he exchanges glances with the former Dragon Queen. She shrugs. "I suppose it's better than spending all my time inside this house", she says.

"You are free to go wherever you want while you're here", Shiera adds. "Six months is time enough to get acquainted with the city; you'll find there are many things to do aside from sorcery."

* * *

After Gwen—the woman who took them to Shiera—agrees to watch over Cersei for the afternoon, they follow the Oracle down the streets. A bit of sunlight colors the sky purple, as if sunset is near. "It's the best I can do", she explains. "The sky stays like this for the whole day, even at noon."

Shiera's street is calm, but the ones they pass by are bursting with people. She points each of them and gives a brief explanation, as if she was a tour guide. "This is Scarborough Boulevard", she says when they enter a larger street. "Named after the centuries-old fair held all across it."

"What does Scarborough mean?", he asks, curiosity taking over him.

"'Fortress', if I'm not mistaken. It's from a long lost tongue, spoken back when Asshai was a military outpost instead of a trade town. The Scarborough Fair began to take place during one of the many wars that plagued the Shadowlands of the time—wars that tore down all cities but this one."

Her history lesson is interrupted when they leave the boulevard to enter a short street. "Fitzherbert Street", she announces, "named for its first dweller."

"An odd name", Daenerys muses, "but there is something familiar about it…"

"It probably comes from the Free Cities", Shiera replies dismissively.

They go through Hikari Street, Gothel Avenue and Artemis Lane before finally arriving at Iris Alley, where the building they're going to is located. "Eagle Employment Agency", Shiera translates the building's sign, illuminated by several colored little lanterns. "I don't know why they named it 'eagle', but it doesn't matter. They have what we're looking for."

He doesn't understand the conversation she holds with the agent, of course, but she translates the outcome for them. "Since Daenerys is fluent in Dothraki and High Valyrian, as well as acquainted with several Essosi cultures, she gets a job at the currency exchange house."

"The what?", he asks before he can think twice.

"It's a place where you exchange your coin for the one used in the place you travel to", Shiera explains. "Coin is not universal outside Westeros. The Free Cities accept Westerosi currency due to their frequent trade, but this is not the case east of Volantis."

Well, that's fair. "What about me?" He's barely fluent in his own tongue, so he assumes his prospects are not the best—when are they ever?

"Lamplighter", she says simply.

"Er, what?"

"Lamplighter", she repeats, as it's self-explanatory. "You know, light up the street lanterns."

He frowns. "I thought they were fueled by magic."

She shakes her head negatively. "Some temples and private homes have magic-fueled lanterns, but most are ignited by fire or gas. That's where a lamplighter comes in. Don't worry, both of you will be trained tomorrow. They are well aware this is all new for you. We'll come here tomorrow right after sunrise."

* * *

Being a lamplighter is way easier than he initially assumed. He only really needs one hand for the job, although the hook serves for support sometimes.

He quickly learns to tell the difference between gas and candle lanterns, and how to light each of them up. For the former, he carries a stick with a small lever at its end, which he pulls when he leans the other end to the 'gas mantle' inside the lamp. The gas lanterns are the colored ones, and their colors are related to their mantles—he doesn't understand that part all that well, but he figures he doesn't need to in order to do his job right.

While the gas lamps must be lightened up twice a day, the candle ones can last two whole days before needing replacement. Since the Asshai'i are fond of their colored lights, candle lanterns are not that common, so he doesn't need to carry many candles with him each patrol.

Fortunately, he's just one of many lamplighters, so he gets responsible for only one section of the city for his patrols—which happen every day at sunset. His area includes Shiera's home and Scarborough Boulevard, which grants him full view of how crowded and loud Asshai can be in the right place and time.

Cersei is shocked when he tells her about his job. "You were a knight of the Kingsguard, Lord of Casterly Rock and a hero of the Long Night", she snarls, "and _that's_ what you end up doing?"

He shrugs. "My skills don't mean much when I don't understand what people say, Cersei", he reminds her. "Besides, Asshai is not exactly a target for attacks. What use could they have of my fighting experience?"

"It just seems that you are humiliating yourself for no good reason", she argues.

He sighs. "I don't feel humiliated", he counters. "It's an easy job, it pays well—I think—and it takes me out of this house."

"It drives you away from me, you mean."

"Interpret my words however you want, sister", he retorts and stands up to leave her room.

She calls for him midway. "Why, Jaime?", she asks. Confused, he turns to look at her. "Why did you abandon me?"

She doesn't sound broken like Brienne did when he left _her_ , but angry like when he left King's Landing to go North. He sighs. "I go back to save your life, and you still claim I _abandoned_ you?"

"You wouldn't have needed to come back if you had _stayed_ in the first place", she counters, "and, even when you came back, you didn't. Not really. You told me, in the Red Keep, that nothing else mattered except for us, but ever since you woke up in that boat you've acted the complete opposite of it!" She sits up. "You discarded me in favor of _her_. Are you so fickle?"

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. As much as hates to admit it, Cersei has a point. His heart may belong to Brienne, but he has done a poor job showing it. Granted, it seems that he wasn't really behind his departure of Winterfell, but he has a hard time fully accepting he had been manipulated—and the mere fact that he was vulnerable to Bloodraven's machinations speaks volumes. "I'm sorry, sister", he begins. "Perhaps I should have told you sooner that you no longer held my heart, but… you'll have to forgive me for not believing you would take it well."

"I would not", she admits without shame. "We belong _together_ , Jaime. We've told each other that countless times, for our entire lives!"

"It's a lie we told ourselves to sleep better at night", he spats. "Falling in love with Brienne made me realize that… and you know that too, deep down, don't you? I know you fucked Lancel while I was away, and then Euron."

"It was for—"

"I know why you did it. And that's the whole point, isn't it? You never fucked me, or anyone else, out of love. It was always to achieve something else. Maybe you could say there is nothing wrong with that, that you had to it. I won't argue that. The problem is that you made me believe it was _love_. Maybe you even believed that yourself. But it's _not_ , and I don't want that for myself. I fell in bed with you, all those times, because I thought we were in love—because that's the only reason I ever want to fall in bed with anybody. Now that I learned what love truly is, I can't bring myself to lay with anyone other than the woman I love."

Cersei opens her mouth, ready to argue, but he doesn't let her. "You're still my sister, Cersei. You'll always be family, and I'm bound by duty to protect you and look after you. You'll always be in my heart, but not in the way it used to be. I'll no longer support decisions I consider wrong—that's why I left King's Landing to go to Winterfell."

"You left because _she_ told you to! I saw you two together in the dragonpit!"

"Brienne did not tell me to leave you", he counters. "She only told me to _convince_ you to come along. She didn't think I'd turn away from you. No one did. I left on my own volition, for the very reasons I told you that day." He takes a deep breath. "I will stand by you until you give birth. I'll stay by your side when you do, if you let me. I'll take care of Gwen as if she was my own daughter. I'll do all I can to protect you from death when we go back to Westeros. But I won't support you if you try to get the throne back. That damned chair destroys everyone who sits there, and I don't want any more of it for our family. I won't be your blindly loyal dog like I used to be. That part of us is _over_. And if you try to harm anyone I care about—Brienne, Tyrion, my niece or nephew—"

"You think I'd harm my own child?"

He can feel his face contort in anger. "Tommen", he replies simply. That shuts her up, so he finishes his sentence. "If you threat or harm anyone I care about, _again_ , I won't even see you as kin. You've done more than enough damage for one lifetime."

She scowls. "Now that you're a 'hero', you want to throw all the problems in this family on my lap! You have blood on your hands too, brother, and I'm not talking just about Aerys."

"I know that", he replies instantly. "But, unlike you, I'm trying to be a better person and atone for my mistakes. You don't even see the world beyond yourself and your ambitions. For that, we could never be one and the same. I believed that for far too long, but not anymore. It's time you realize that too."

With that, he does leave the room.

* * *

Daenerys usually comes back from work at the time of his patrol, but sometimes she stays for a while longer, and they meet when both are coming back. In one of these times, she asks him to take her on a walk. "We both fought with your sister today", she reminds him.

Yes, the memory of today's fight is still fresh. Cersei had woken up feeling a strong nausea, reminding him of the sickness she suffered while pregnant with Myrcella. He hushed to help her, but she shouted at him, saying she didn't need his help—that she wanted him away from her. Her nausea was completely forgotten as she accused him of betraying her and siding with enemies. Daenerys jumped to his defense, reminding her that _he_ saved her life, but it only served for the fight to escalate further. In the end, Shiera called for Gwen, and both of them stayed away from her room afterwards.

Sighing, he agrees, leading her to Scarborough Boulevard. He was fascinated by the amount of good sold in the many, many stalls scattered across the large avenue. Although neither he or Daenerys were able to properly buy stuff, just people watching was enough to soothe them.

Eventually, they come across a small square—one he's acquainted with due to his work. They sit under a blue lantern, feeling the nightly wind on their necks. "Does it make you feel any better", she asks, "that our worst actions were not really our own?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "I've always owned my actions, right or wrong. I never shied away from being called Kingslayer, and when my affair with Cersei got out, I talked about it without a single shame in the world. It was arrogance at first, I admit, but later… Even later, when shame crept in, I did not like to hide my sins. So the idea that I was not in full control of myself when I committed half of them…"

"Is terrifying", she finishes for him. He nods. "My problem was a bit different, I guess. I was slow in recognizing my mistakes, especially when I got power through my dragons. It's easy to convince yourself you are in the right. And when people showed me gratitude… how could anything I do be wrong?" She looks at the blue lamp. "But I acted wrongly, even before going to Westeros. Your brother could tell you some of my mistakes. I… I can't help but feel like I still made big mistakes there, you know. Letting myself be manipulated…"

"I get it", he agrees. "Maybe Bloodraven is just powerful enough to get into everyone's minds, but, when Shiera told us the things he did… I got the impression he used those vulnerable to his manipulation."

She looks back at him. "I was nervous when I arrived in Dragonstone", she says quietly, as if providing evidence for his guess. "And then, when difficulties showed up, I got more and more stressed out. And then all those losses… I was easy prey."

"When Bran caught Cersei and me together, I was scared", he admits. "Scared of what would happen to her and our children if he told anyone about us."

"What about when you left Winterfell?" _When you left Brienne_ , she doesn't say.

He massages his temples. "A day after Shiera showed me what I've done, my memories of it became blurry", he confesses. "I… went away inside back then. I detached my mind from the reality around me. It's something I'm used to whenever the situation before me is one I can't stand." She looks at him confused, but he doesn't know how else to explain it. "Whenever I do it, my memories of the time I spend away inside are blurry. I barely remember my captivity in Robb Stark's camp, and half of my time under Aerys is a blur."

"So you remember nothing from when you went back to your sister?"

"I remember flashes. I think—Bloodraven took advantage of my insecurities. I was already asking myself if I was a good choice for Brienne—not out of worth, per se, but because of the dangers linked to my name. I didn't want her to suffer due to an association with me. And then, I did feel a bit guilty over leaving Cersei and Tyrion to fight each other without me to mediate—it's always been like that among us, you know. I didn't _want_ to leave, I never did, but sometimes I wondered if my choice to be with Brienne wasn't selfish and dishonorable. I guess Bloodraven used all of that against me."

He's been really contemplative since he got to Asshai. Is it due to all revelations dropped on his lap on his first day? Is it the odd state of freedom he's living in right now? Or is it just something in the water? Gods only know.

"My memories did not fade", Daenerys says, "although I get a headache if I mull over them for too long." She stands up. "Perhaps we should go back. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

He nods and stands up as well. He doesn't fully understand this strange relationship he's formed with her. For two people who used to be an inch close to kill one another, their interactions have been nothing but friendly since Volantis. _Maybe it_ is _something in the water_ , he muses as they make their way back to Shiera's house.

* * *

_He sees her alone in the yard, panting right after training, and can't resist going to her, despite having things to do before lunch. Then, he catches sight of Tormund, and decides to come to her from behind and hug her._

_She jumps, but relaxes as soon he nuzzles his nose and beard against her cheek. "What are you doing?", she asks, placing a hand on his stump and caressing it._

_He closes his eyes and rests his head on her shoulder. "Tormund Giantsbane was approaching", he replies. "Wanted to remind him of who you said 'yes' to."_

" _You're insufferable", she comments, but he can hear fondness in her voice. It makes his heart melt._

" _That I am", he muses, "but I think I compensate for it well enough at night, don't I?"_

_He feels her cheeks heaten up at his words. Feeling daring, he places a wet kiss on her neck. "Jaime", she whispers. "You do, yes."_

" _I suppose you can stand me just fine then."_

" _Yes, yes."_

' _Stand me for the rest of our days', he wants to say, but no, it's too soon. He still makes the vows on his mind. 'I'm yours and you're mine, Brienne, until the end of my days. There can never be anyone else.'_

* * *

"He manipulated her too, you know", Shiera tells him suddenly over dinner, after he comes back from work.

"Who?", he asks.

"Your lady Ser", she replies, leaving no room for doubts about who she's referring to. "When you left her… don't you find it odd that she never followed you?"

Now that she mentions it… "It doesn't really sound like her", he agrees.

"He convinced her it wasn't worth it—that _she_ wasn't worth it. Pretty similar to what he told you." He can believe that. Over his days with Brienne in Winterfell, he witnessed first-hand how many insecurities she carried due to her looks and attitude.

When Shiera doesn't add to this statement, he decides to satisfy an old curiosity. "How did you come to get these powers? How did you and Bloodraven know where to look for?"

She sighs. "You remember I told you about the blood pact we made—the one that ties our lives together." He nods. "We made that pact for a reason. The spell promised us a grand reveal—it would unveil the path to what we desired. When we finished the ritual, each of us was shown a road. His pointed to beyond the Wall, while mine led me here. The Oracle is a mantle, just like the Three-Eyed Raven."

"And do you plan to pass it along after you die?"

"No. Just like the Three-Eyed Raven is no longer needed in Westeros, the Oracle's purpose was fulfilled years ago."

He suddenly remembers her mentioning having done something that, from what he understood then, tired her to the point she wished her own death. "How was it fulfilled?"

She stands up from her chair and proceeds to make tea—she's clearly addicted to it. He takes a bite of a cookie—he's pretty sure he's growing addicted to those as well. "The Wall is one of the hinges of the world", she begins, "where the line between natural and unnatural blurs. Mysterious threats arise every few centuries, and each generation has ways to deal with them.

"Around the time Brynden started to plot House Targaryen's demise, we began to hear rumours of strange beings attacking the Five Forts in Yi Ti, coming from Mossovy and the Grey Waste. Demons, shadow dragons, vampires, werewolves, headless centaurs… the whole package of horror stories. They only attacked at night, though, making it really hard to track them down—the sky in the Five Forts is starless, and the moon is often not enough to illuminate them.

"Like I said when you arrived here, my powers grow weak when I leave Asshai. I went to the Five Forts many times, but it was frustrating. My efforts never seemed enough, and soldiers kept dying. Then, a grey plague descended upon the entire nation of Yi Ti, killing hundreds of people. We recruited all sorts of magicians, but we only got rid of the last monsters five years ago."

He can tell this is a _very_ condensed version, but honestly, he's not keen on finding out details. Battling White Walkers and dragons was more than enough of magical creatures for him. "And what do you do now for a living?"

"Many things", she answers casually. "People come from all over Essos to see me, although few come from the Free Cities. Some want their fortune told—I always tell them my visions of the future are not set in stone, but they rarely turn away—others want specific spells… I _am_ paid by the local authorities to keep the sunlight up. Most of my work involves espionage, though. People pay a great amount of gold to get intel on their enemies and send secret messages to their allies. You know I contacted Kinvara through flames, right?" He nods. "I pass messages through flames all the time. Rain and wind too, if needed."

She is a multitalented woman, he'll give her that. "Are you not afraid of leaving Essos vulnerable by dying without passing your abilities to someone else?"

"No", she replies firmly. "Unlike the other times the Oracle intervened, we did not just banish evil to the depths of where they came. We really _destroyed_ them this time, just like the White Walkers were killed for real in Westeros now. I doubt another danger will emerge before a few hundred years, and when it does, it will be very different from those we faced. Humanity will need different powers to defeat them, not mine—or Brynden's. Our time in this world is over, and my dear lover must accept it."

* * *

When Cersei is eight moons pregnant, Shiera asks about names. "I can tell you the baby's sex", she offers, "if you want to save time discussing boy's _and_ girl's names."

His sister sees no trouble accepting the offer, and Shiera places her hand on her belly. After a short while, she announces, "A girl."

Cersei doesn't seem to care beyond the need for a name. "I don't want a Lannister name for her", she says, surprising him. "Nor a Greyjoy one. If we are to hide from Bloodraven, I want an unassuming name for my daughter."

It makes more sense than he wishes it did. "I suppose no Targaryen names either?", Daenerys asks, seemingly read to list all of her female ancestors' names as suggestions.

His sister refuses. "Targaryen names are too… unique."

"Then what do you want?", he asks. "Jeyne?"

"Ugh", she retorts. "It doesn't have to be an _ugly_ name."

Daenerys mumbles that Jeyne is a pretty name, but otherwise stays silent. She may have grown to like him a bit, after all these months of peaceful acquaintance, but she and Cersei are unlikely to ever truly get along—even though the former Dragon Queen has aided his twin when she goes unwell due to her pregnancy more than once.

He sighs and frowns in concentration, trying to come up with names that fit Cersei's criteria. The first ones that come to his mind are all typical from the westerlands: Elissa, Joanna, Johanna, Dorna, Genna, Eleyne, Sybell, Melara…

He's tempted to suggest Catelyn, but he's half sure Cersei will jump at him, so he goes for, "Sara?"

"Too typically Northern", she refutes. "Even if I dye my hair brown or black, my other features give me away as… _not_ from the North."

"What are you planning on disguising yourself as?", he asks, because he had no idea his twin was considering going back to Westeros under a fake alias.

"A riverlander", she replies. "Anyone can pose as a riverlander without much trouble, and it's easy to find a ship to Essos from there—which would make it more plausible to explain how I got away."

"It's easier from the stormlands", he suggests.

"But their accent is too heavy", she counters. "I remember how Robert spoke, Surely you remember it too—and isn't your… _lover_ from Tarth? Surely her accent makes her stand out. I can't emulate that."

He nods, grateful that Cersei took his threat from months ago seriously and avoided calling Brienne by insulting names. Now that he thinks about it, Brienne's accent was indeed different from the rest of Westeros, heavy and remarkable.

"A riverlander name, then", he guesses. He's once again tempted to suggest Catelyn. "Jenny of Oldstones?"

"You want your niece named after a song?"

Not just any song, he muses, but the one Podrick sung at the eve of battle, right after he knighted Brienne. He doesn't feel any need to voice that, though, and merely nods.

Daenerys finally speaks up. "What about Gwen, after the woman who helps us out sometimes? It's an unassuming name, and you'd be honoring a helping hand."

He expects Cersei to reject her suggestion immediately, just out of spite, but his sister looks contemplative. "You know", she says, eventually, "it's a good idea."

He leaves for work earlier that day.

* * *

A few days later, he is on his way back home—it's odd to refer to Shiera's home as his too, but it's the closest he has to one at the moment—when he finds Daenerys coming from the opposite direction. Her steps and movements leave no room for doubts—she's drunk.

"Heeeeey, Jaime Lannister!", she shouts, louder than he's ever heard her. "Wanna boozeeeee?"

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "What in seven hells are you drinking?"

"They call it 'vodka'", she slurs in reply. "It's greaaat, you should taste it!"

"No, thank you", he replies carefully, then reaches for her arm. "Come now, my lady, let's get you inside."

"I'm not your laaady. Your lady is in Weeesteros, waitin' for ya to saaave her from Blooooodraveeen!" She trips when he opens the door. "Did you ever teeeeeell her? That you loooove her?"

He seriously considers telling her yes, just to shut her up, but he's pretty sure he's already mentioned the truth to her before—or at least near her. "No, I did not."

To his surprise—although _maybe_ he should have expected it—she begins to cry. "But whyyyy? You were so cuuute together! You should get m—married and have t—tall babieees!"

"I… plan to do it", he reassures her.

" _Do iiiiit_ ", she insists, still crying. "Do it for meeeeee, Kingslayeeer, because I—I caaaan't have babieeees…"

Oh, that's new to him. "Are you barren?"

"The witch who kiiiiilled my husband and soooon said I waaas."

"And you… trusted her?"

She half-laughs, half-hiccups. "Jon said the saaaame. That she wasn't— _a realiaaable sourceee of informaaation_." Another hiccup. "I—I miss Jooon so muuch."

He forcefully guides her to the small couch in the hall. Soon she curls into herself and cries, sobs and hiccups. In doing so, she let her bottle of vodka fall and shatters. "Noooooo", she lets out, crying even harder.

The sound attracts both Shiera and Cersei, who look shocked at the scene before them. Daenerys doesn't even seem to notice them, focused as she is in mumbling nonsense. He takes a moment to look at her under the torchlight—never she looked as young as does now. _I'm old enough to have fathered her_ , he realizes.

"What did she drink?", Shiera asks.

"She said it was… vodka?"

The Oracle sighs. "It's the strongest beverage in Essos. Only drunkards dare to drink it… usually."

_Well, that explains why Daenerys is so drunk when the bottle looked almost full before shattering to the ground._

He hushes to hold her hair back when she vomits on the floor. The smell makes Cersei sick, but she still comes back with a glass of water for him to give her, while Shiera cleans the floor.

In the morning, Daenerys thanks them all for their help and vows to never drink vodka ever again.

* * *

 _This time, she is the one resting on top of him_ — _a feat achieved after reassuring her, many times, that he was strong enough. Odd, that he'd have to say it to a woman, but Brienne has never been an ordinary lady. That's what he loves about her, after all_ — _one of the many things, at least._

_His stump rests on her ass while his hand caresses her cheek. "Tell me about Tarth", he asks. "Tell me about your life there."_

_She closes her eyes and leans into his touch. "What do you want to know?"_

" _Everything", he replies softly. "I want to know about the place that bred such a magnificent woman."_

 _She blushes. "There is no need to woo me with sweet words, Jaime", she scolds him gently_ — _she's always gentle, his Brienne. "Not when you already had me in every possible way."_

' _Not in all the ways I want', he thinks, but something stops him from voicing his thoughts. It's too soon, he tells himself. Instead, he says, "My words are not sweet, my lady Ser, not in the way you imply. I speak nothing but the truth. You_ are _magnificent, Brienne. Be it your body", he smirks, trailing his hand quickly over her subtle but enticing curves, "be it your soul, I wouldn't describe you with any lesser word."_

_She sighs; the sound goes straight to his cock, but merely kisses her forehead, urging her to answer him. Her soothing voice lulls him to sleep, and he's all too glad to wake up still with her weight above him. Oh, if only he got to wake up like this for the rest of his life... he'd be the happiest man in the world._

* * *

Cersei's screams wake him up—wake the whole house up. Shiera is the first to reach her, and she tells Daenerys to hurry up and find Gwen. "It's time", she tells them, "the baby is coming."

He helps her undress and sits behind her on the bed. "You've gone through this thrice before", he reminds her gently, as if they hadn't spent the last months fighting every other day. "You can do this once more.'

She nods, biting her lip to swallow another scream. "I can see her head already", Shiera announces, "but the water is not broken yet."

"How is it possible?", he asks. He may not be well-versed in pregnancies and births, but he always heard labor begins _after_ the water breaks, not before. And for baby Gwen's head to be already in sight…

"It happens sometimes", the woman replies calmly. "It usually doesn't mean anything. Push, Cersei, this can be over quickly if you focus on it."

Absently, Jaime offers his stump for her to grab when she winces in pain. At first, she tries to push it away, but then a new contraction comes, and she instinctively grabs it tightly. _Seven hells_ , he curses mentally. _Good thing I offered the stump, or she'd break all of my fingers._

"Her head is out!", Shiera exclaims as the door opens to reveal Gwen and Daenerys. "Come now, Cersei, just a bit more!"

He tilts his head to the side to catch a glimpse of what is happening at the other side of the bed—and fuck, is there suppose to be this much blood?

Cersei screams louder—louder than even the screams she gave when birthing Joffrey—and tigthens her hold on his stump. "Make it stop", she shouts. "Make it stop, make it _stop_!"

"You can do this, Cersei", he whispers in her ear. "You're strong enough, just a bit further and it'll be over."

And indeed, it's over after a couple more pushes—but Gwen is spilled out with enough blood to soil Shiera's dress from shoulder to knee. He lowers his head to tell Cersei it's done, but her eyes are closed.

* * *

In Asshai, people don't bury or burn their dead. Instead, they lay their bodies down in the poisoned river. "It deteriorates quickly", Shiera explains, "leaving no remains behind. The Asshai'i don't like the idea of preserving someone's bones; they believe it hinders their journey to the afterlife."

He sincerely prays that, if such an afterlife does exist, that Cersei finally finds peace.

Shiera finds a wet nurse for the baby—Sherazade—as soon as the funeral ends, which is to be paid with his income. He's grateful for the help anyway.

"People say there are no children in Asshai", he comments to the Oracle one day, hoping she understands the question behind his words.

She does. "There wasn't", she agrees, "but, once they found ways to get regular supplies of water and food, children were allowed to grow up here. Before, every child born in Asshai was sent to spend their first nine years in either Yi Ti or Leng. The rich kids still go, but it's not common practice anymore."

Holding a baby with only one hand is a struggle, but with patience and effort he manages to carry Gwen around. Since Daenerys spends her day at work, and Shiera's job is a by-demand one—meaning clients come at any time of the day—he's the main responsible for looking after his niece.

"I promise to shield you from all evils of the world", he whispers to her. "I promise I'll do everything I can to ensure you'll grow up in a better world than the one your mother and I got. And I vow to love you and care for you until my dying day."

Gwen is not his natural daughter, but she's an innocent who lost both of her parents before her first cry. He's all she has in the world, and he will make sure it is enough.

* * *

_She stares at his gift without grabbing it from his hand. It makes him nervous; did she not like it?_

" _If you want", he says, nervously, "I can find something els_ —"

" _Don't be ridiculous", she cuts him off, raising her hands to grab it. "I loved it. It's just… you've given me so much, and I have nothing to give you in return."_

_He chuckles. He had gone to Wintertown on the previous day, and found a necklace with a crescent moon as its pendant. Remembering it is one of the symbols of House Tarth's sigil, he immediately bought it for her._

" _It was nothing", he tells her. "It barely cost a thing_ —"

" _It's not just this", she cuts him off again, not that he minds. "It's_ — _Oathkeeper. My armor. Podrick. Your belief and trust in me. It's so, so much. I owe you_ —"

_It's his turn to cut her off. "There are no debts between us, my lady Ser. As you said, those were all gifts. Freely given, with no expectations." 'Just like my heart', he thinks. "And you've given me more than you imagine, Brienne. I'd not be the man I am today if it wasn't for you. I ask nothing from you."_

' _Only your hand in marriage', he corrects himself mentally, 'but that's for another day.' Today, he helps her put the necklace on; later, he helps her take everything else off._

* * *

When Shiera announces to have spotted Arya and her crew sailing past Mossovy, he decides it's time to discuss strategies. "We can't go to Westeros without a plan", he says while rocking Gwen to sleep.

"Agree", Daenerys replies. She then turns to Shiera. "Is there any way to kill Bloodraven _without_ killing Bran in the process?"

The Oracle sighs. "None that I know of", she replies. "Honestly, I can't even tell if Bran Stark is still there, or if Brynden banished him completely. However… Kinvara may find a way. Her magic allows people to be brought back from the dead, if a flame of life can still be found. If you bring her along, she can try to revive Bran Stark after Brynden dies."

"But that's for the final stages", Jaime reminds them. "First step is to bring Arya Stark to our side, so we can get on her ship and sail back to Westeros."

"Easy", Daenerys replies. "Take her here, and Lady Shiera will tell her the truth."

"Easier said than done", he retorts. "For all we know, she will try to kill us as soon as she realizes who we are."

"I'll go with you", Shiera interrupts. "Next step. What will you do after convincing Arya to take you back to Westeros?"

He looks up for a moment, rocking Gwen a bit more. "You said Kinvara might help us bring Bran Stark back", he says to the Oracle. "You talked to her over the flames. Can you not summon her here the same way?" She nods. "Then do it, please. We need all help we can get."

"I'll charge you for it", she says matter-of-factly. "Whether Bran Stark survives or not is no concern of mine. I'll be dead by then."

Daenerys gasps, but he nods. "I'll pay you when I next get paid. Now, next question: which way to Westeros?"

"The same way Arya Stark went through to get here", she replies immediately. "Any other trajectory will lead you to the Free Cities, where word of you can easily reach Brynden, or to southern Westeros, which is even worse. You must land on the northern coast."

"It will take another year for us to get there", Daenerys counters.

"I can adjust the winds in your favor", Shiera offers, "but yes, it's the longest route. But it's the safest, and safety should be your priority."

"Alright", she concedes. "Then what next? If we are going with Lady Arya, our destination is Winterfell—

" _Fuck_!", he exclaims. Gwen wakes up and lets out a cry. He immediately hushes her and rocks her gently. When she quiets down, he explains himself. "I just remembered—when I got to Volantis with Cersei, I sold my golden hand to send a letter to Brienne… assuming she was in Winterfell."

"What did you say in the letter?", Daenerys asks, suddenly tense.

He closes his eyes for a moment. "I said I did not remember how I got to be with Cersei, when my last memory was of being in the yards with her and Lady—Queen—Sansa. And I… I said I loved her and I wanted to marry her."

He hears Shiera sigh. "Brynden has no shown no signs of being aware of this letter", he assures him. "I wish I could find out what happened in Winterfell, but it is possible that Sansa Stark received it."

"If she did", Daenerys comments, "she may already be aware that you are alive."

"She would know her brother lied about you and your sister's death", Shiera adds, "and be suspicious of him already."

"Or maybe she never came across the letter at all", he cuts them off. "It may never have reached Winterfell—and even if it did, she might as well have burned it without reading it. Either way, assuming we get Lady Arya's trust, getting her sister's should not be so hard. We'll have the Queen in the North at our side, at least."

"It's no small feat", Daenerys agrees. "But what will we do with that support? We need to get to King's Landing and catch Bloodraven unaware."

"Next to impossible", Shiera says. "Even if you wear your shield necklaces, people will spot you, and the moment you venture south, Brynden will know."

"If we go under disguises", he counters, "he won't be able to tell it's us. As far as he knows, Daenerys was killed by Jon Snow, and neither I or Cersei made it to Essos."

"He will still notice if you try to sneak into the Red Keep", she argues. "He will send his men to kill you—Brienne included. Depending on how strong his hold on her is, revealing yourself won't stop her from fighting you."

He inhales sharply. He did not take the possibility of fighting Brienne into account. They have always escaped that fate, no matter how close they got to the outcome—Riverrun immediately comes to mind (' _It's yours; it will always be yours'_ ). "But she won't kill me", he states, firmly believing his lady Ser to be strong enough to fight against more murderous orders. "And I won't kill her either. I'll go through her and kill Bloodraven himself if I have to, but I won't let her die."

"We can plan these details after we get allies", Daenerys offers. "If we're lucky, you won't have to risk fighting her at all."

He nods and stands up, bidding them good night. He goes to his room, where Gwen's crib lies at his bedside, and places her there. Just when he lies on his bed, she wakes up and begins to cry. He sits up, sighing. Another night, another struggle to make his niece fall asleep out of his arms.

* * *

One day after Shiera announces Arya is in Yi Ti, it rains on his patrol. He curses every god he can name for subjecting him to the mess that is lighting up lanterns on that weather. How is he supposed to light up a candle under this huge falling water?

He takes a long while to complete his job, to the point several lanterns are completely shut down when he reaches them, but it's nothing short of a miracle that he gets his job done at all. "I want a raise for working under this heavy rain", he complains to Shiera.

"Oh, they pay higher in the rainy season", she says in reassurance, but it only leaves him confused.

"Rainy season?"

She chuckles. "Weather in the Shadowlands works quite differently. Summer, fall, winter, spring… those words mean nothing to an Asshai'i. Here, we have the rainy season, which goes for four or five moons, and the dry season, which is the rest of the year."

He blinks. So, in Asshai people face the same two seasons every year? It sounds… interesting. An enviable routine, if he thinks hard enough about it.

Regardless, his higher payment period doesn't last long, for soon Shiera catches sight of Arya Stark's ship coming. "Let's hope it isn't raining when it docks here", he groans.

"We don't need to hope", she retorts, and, half an hour later, there is not a single cloud in the daylight sky. "Shall we go?"

* * *

It takes five days for Arya to finally believe them, although convincing her that Bloodraven took over her brother's body is the easiest part. "I've known Bran all my life", she says. "Of course I found his behavior odd and incongruent with the brother I knew."

She warms up to Gwen—who's now three moons old—quickly enough to dispel any animosities between her and Jaime. "You were never on my list", she tells him cryptically, although he can guess what she means.

She's understandably wary of Daenerys, but hearing her side of her story convinces her that yes, they are all on the same boat. In the end, she agrees to their plan to go back to Westeros. "Although I would like to know if there is an easier route to go back to Nefer", she asks Shiera.

"You can go through Mossovy", she assures.

"My captain won't like the idea."

"I know… I got in her mind to see your chances of coming here. I understand her hesitation to go there, but I can guarantee you, Lady Arya, Mossovy is no longer plagued by the monsters she's heard of. I am among the people who made sure of that."

Arya nods slowly. "What will we find there, then?"

"Survivors of the wars", she replies simply. "Decades of incessant fights made them resourceful. You'll find no shortage of help for whatever you need. There are people who speak Dothraki there, so you will already have an easier time than when you went to Nefer."

Arya's captain, Larissa, is not easily convinced, but in the end she decides to take on the Oracle's words.

Shiera gives them twenty shield necklaces. "All of your crew must wear them", she warns Lady Arya and Captain Larissa. "Your crew is made of eleven people, right?"

"Counting us, yes", the Stark girl agrees.

"That leaves you with seven necklaces to give to Westerosi, then, so be careful of who you share your secrets with. You might be safe in the North for now, but Brynden is already working his way to break the barriers of the Neck."

They thank her for all her help, and Jaime asks to send his gratitude to Gwen and Sherazade as well. Shiera places a shield earring on his niece's left ear as her last gesture to them before their departure. "Thank me by getting rid of Brynden and allowing me rest", she reminds them softly.

They get aboard the ship, but, just as Jaime begins to climb the stairs, Shiera calls him. "I almost forgot to tell you, Ser Jaime. Your lady Ser was released from Bran Stark's Kingsguard and sworn herself to Queen Sansa."

He smiles. Whatever the reason behind this change, he knows Brienne is safe from Bloodraven's machinations now. He won't have to fight her—who knows, he might actually be able to woo her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Shiera's powers are not based in anything, really, at least not consciously. (Actually, this applies to most of this worldbuilding.)  
> \- There are hints in the books that Essos is more technologically advanced than Westeros. Giving Asshai is perpetually dark, I figured its people would figure out way to create artifical light way sooner than anywhere else in the world.  
> \- There are also hints that the Five Forts in Yi Ti have a similar function as the Wall in Westeros. In AWDW, Melisandre call the Wall 'one of the hinges of the world'. It's commonly accepted that the Five Forts are another, and whatever is the southern part of Sothoryos as well.  
> \- I know the job description of a lamplighter is not 100% accurate with real world lamplighter. This is on purpose, because not only magic is involved in Asshai'i lanterns, but also because, due to translational issues, Jaime is not really able to explain what he's doing very eloquently.  
> \- Cersei's labor is what is called 'tachytocic delivery', and it's linked to a higher risk of fatal hemorrhages. It's more common in women who went through 3+ births, which is her case.
> 
> There were SEVERAL other scenes I had initially wanted to write for this chapter: more dialogue between Dany, Jaime and Cersei, to explore their dynamics; more information on Shiera; moooore worldbuidling; scenes of day and night life in Asshai (Dany's drunk scene was originally a party scene). Buut this chapter is long enough already. There are still meaningful conversations to be held before they reach Winterfell, but I'll leave them to chapter 9 - chapter 7 is Jon's and chapter 8 is Brienne's. See you soon!


	7. The True North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon enjoys his exile in the lands beyond the Wall, until he's met with drastic revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advange for my lack of creativity with OC names xD

The first thing he learns when he arrives at the Wall is that he was right: the Night's Watch no longer exists. "Most of them went back to their old homes", Tormund explains after greeting him with a tight hug. "But some are with us."

He does recognize a few men, although none of them were his friends back when he was a crow. When they begin their journey north, Tormund asks about what happened.

"A disaster", he states. "Daenerys lost another dragon—the one I rode—and, not long after, her advisor and close friend. Do you remember Missandei?"

"The one who fucked the cockless guy?"

"...Yeah, that one." He shakes his head. "And then… well, I don't think I told you, but I found out I'm not a bastard at all. The man I thought to be my father was actually my uncle, who disguised me as his bastard to hide me from his best friend."

Tormund scowls at that. "Why would he hide you from his best friend? That doesn't sound like a good friendship to me."

"It was complicated", he explains. "His best friend was the king who conquered the throne after getting rid of most of Daenerys' family… and I was the son of the man he personally killed. Daenerys' brother Rhaegar, heir to the throne at the time. He and Lyanna Stark eloped, apparently, and I'm their child."

"Wait. If your father was heir to the throne, does that mean…"

"I'm sort of heir to the same throne? Yes."

"I take you didn't like it?"

"Seven hells, _no_! You know as well as I do what happens whenever people push me into a position of leadership. The last thing I wanted was the entire Westeros on my lap. I tried to tell Daenerys that, but apparently I was the only person to think crowning me was a bad idea. It drove her paranoid. Not that I blame her, but… it ended up in disaster."

"What disaster?"

"Long story short, she burned the capital after it surrendered."

Tormund startles. "That seems… dumb."

"She went mad", he admits, sighing in defeat. "She couldn't even see that she did a bad thing. When she began to ramble about ruling together and not care about anything or anyone but us, I… I killed her. I had to."

Silence falls, but Tormund is not one to stay quiet for long. "So you became a Queen Killer", he states. "Just like pretty boy King Killer. By the way, what happened to him? When I left, he was all over the big woman."

It takes a while for Jon to remember who 'pretty boy King Killer' and 'the big woman' are. "Well… Ser Jaime died in King's Landing."

"Wait, what?"

"I don't know how he ended up there", he defends himself. "I only knew it because Bran announced he and his sister died in the flames that engulfed the Red Keep. Honestly, I did not stop to think about him until now."

"And the big woman?"

" _Ser Brienne_ stayed in King's Landing as my brother's Kingsguard—Bran was chosen as King of the Six Kingdoms, for… reasons. I'm not sure." He really doesn't know why his brother was picked. Probably lack of a better candidate; he has no idea of who is still alive among the high lords.

"Six Kingdoms? Weren't they Seven?"

"Oh, that. Sansa got independence for the North back."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, _why_?"

"Look, I know nothing of southern stuff, but if her brother rules the entire realm, why did she ask for separation? If she wanted so much to be queen, why didn't she get the whole Westeros instead of her brother?"

 _That_ catches him by surprise. Why, indeed?

"Well, clearly you can't explain that either", Tormund says, interrupting his reverie before it begins. "But pray tell, why are you here in exile?"

"For killing Daenerys", he replies matter-of-factly.

"But King Killer was not exiled for king killing. Why were you exiled for queen killing?"

"Her followers demanded justice", he replies, sighing.

That answer seems to satisfy Tormund, for he moves on to talk about what happened to the Free Folk while he was gone and their plans for the future.

* * *

Time goes by. The Free Folk tries to make him King-beyond-the-Wall, claiming he was the new Mance Rayder, but once again he reminds everyone of how disastrous things ended every time he got into a position of leadership.

"I got elected Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, then got killed for doing my job. I was crowned King in North, only to be thrown in battle after battle, almost dying again dozens of times, and bending the knee to a woman who turned mad in the end. I got nominated for the Iron Throne, the entire city burned, I killed the woman I loved and got exiled for it. My track record is terrible!"

 _I killed the woman I love_. It's not a welcome thought, but one that comes often regardless. He truly loved Daenerys, as much as he loved Ygritte once. His feelings never really went away, despite his own betrayal against her—for it _had been_ a betrayal, no matter how necessary it was.

Sometimes, he wonders if execution should have been the right punishment. After all, he helped her become who she was. Had he kept his parentage a secret, like Dany herself advised, she would have grown distrustful of him and her council. He fell in love with a woman who had all good qualities of a good ruler; her descent to madness was a development born out of losses and betrayals—ones that could have been avoided, had they all made better choices.

For starters, why did he spread his secret so soon after discovering it? Perhaps it had been the shock of finding out from Sam, so close to the battle against the White Walkers, but it was like the revelation burned his brain. Every time he tried to think about, well, anything, his mind would tie itself in numerous knots until he could no longer concentrate on anything useful. All that remained was impulsive decisions, and blind obedience to those he trusted.

Bran persuaded him to tell the truth to his not-sisters, and he saw no problem with that at the time—even though, in hindsight, there was no way this would not end badly. Neither Sansa or Arya liked Daenerys much, so why would they sit idly and let conquer the throne knowing Jon—who they favored—had technically a better claim? It was only a matter of time before word was spread of who 'the true king' was.

Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, but it was undoubtedly a huge factor to his fallout with Dany. She ended up being right in her mistrust; after all, both Varys and Tyrion conspired against her in the end, and for what? To place _him_ on the throne? Daenerys had been the one to fight for it, to climb her way out of a miserable, slave-like life to get where she was when they met. Who was Jon in comparison? No wonder she got angry at him.

And then Rhaegal was lost to gross miscalculations and negligence. How could have they forgotten about the Iron Fleet? _Jaime Lannister_ himself had given information on Euron Greyjoy's numbers! (Speaking of the Kingsl—no, he won't drift to that line of thought, not with Tormund around.)

Not to mention Missandei's capture and death. Yes, it was war. From a certain point of view, Cersei was not wrong at all in executing Daenerys' most trusted ally; had the Lion Queen won, her actions would have been portrayed as intelligent. But, although Dany's grief was expected, no one would have thought she'd become so unhinged. And all because, again, they forgot about Cersei's naval forces.

The more he thinks about it, the surer he is that Dany's tragic end was born of loneliness. She lost many beloved ones—Ser Jorah, Missandei, Viserion, Drogon—and felt betrayed by those she trusted. Only Grey Worm remained faithfully by her side, and he too was overwhelmed with grief in the end. _Loneliness is the trap_ , he heard once, a long time ago, from Old Nan; as always, she was right.

* * *

He had never gone so far north before. "The Thenn valley", Tormund announced proudly. He's never been here either—in fact, almost none of them have.

"We got here rather easily", he comments, "don't you think?"

"It took us a whole year."

"Because we'd make camp for moons on end instead of wandering around all the time. Had we just ridden in a straight line, we'd take two months maximum. It wasn't so easy back then."

Tormund glances around and nods. "Well, most of the snow melted. It might be spring already—or maybe the White Walkers were responsible for all that snow."

He makes a very solid point, now that Jon thinks about it. The White Walkers were mysterious creatures, and now that they are gone, will remain so for eternity. Who's to say they did not influence the weather?

The Thenns welcome them to their village. Now that there is nothing to defend themselves against, they seem much more friendly than the stories he heard of them painted them out to be. "We lost way too many of us over the last years", Lord Aragorn—yes, the Thenns have lords, much to his surprise—explains when pointing out the many empty houses and igloos. "Only now children are being born among us, and even so they are in small numbers. If you are willing to follow our customs and obey our laws, you are welcome to stay."

"We grew used to this kind of thing in the South", Tormund replies. "It may not be so bad, kneeling in exchange for a roof above our heads and food on our tables. What do you think, pretty boy queen killer?"

Apparently, Jon was deserving of the same nickname as Jaime Lannister. He doesn't know what to think of it. "If everyone is fine, so am I."

Few people choose to remain nomadic; Jon can see most are tired of that lifestyle. _I bet half of them will leave by the end of the year_ , he thinks, _after they get enough rest and food._

Aragorn is the most friendly out of the three Thenn lords, so Jon decides to satisfy his curiosity with him. "Have you guys wandered north after the White Walkers were destroyed?"

"We've only got confirmation of it a few moons ago", he replies. "So no, we haven't ventured north of our village yet. But we plan to. See if those lands are liveable now that those monsters are gone."

"I'd like to follow you, when you go."

"I'll keep that in mind."

So far, his life in exile has been good. His Stark blood has always been stronger than his Targaryen one—which served Ned Stark's purpose just fine, now that he thinks about it—so the cold weather suits him well. He's among friends, old and new, and even in a land ruled by laws and lords such as the Thenn, life is simpler than it ever was south of the Wall.

So, when a rider approaches the village claiming to be Lady Meera of House Reed, he knows his peaceful days are numbered.

* * *

Lord Aragorn is intrigued by Lady Meera—not in a sexual way, for he clearly only has eyes for his wife Arwen—so he insists on joining Jon on his meeting with her. Tormund goes too, because, according to him, Jon's life always goes badly when they part.

(He's starting to think he has the right of it.)

A rich meal is prepared from the 'southern guest', and Lady Meera is clearly taken aback. _I get it_ , he wants to say. _I never thought I'd find something like this beyond the Wall either._

After the mandatory introductions and pleasantries, Jon asks her what she came here for. She wastes no words. "Queen Sansa asked for you. She's summoning you to Winterfell."

He frowns. Has his cousin lost her mind? "I'm in exile", he replies. "She is well aware I'm not to set foot south of the Wall."

"You were exiled by the King in the South", Lady Meera counters without hesitation. "But these lands, if they belong to any queen or king, it's to her."

Lord Aragorn scoffs. "The Wall is older than those petty kings and queens of the south", he claims. "The lands beyond it belong to no one but the people who live in them. Tell your queen that."

She shrugs, unaffected. "Queen Sansa has way too many more urgent matters than thinking over whether the lands beyond the Wall are under her rule or not. If you want to introduce yourself to her and make your statement, feel free to follow me when I go back. But I'm sure we can all agree that, shall Jon wander south of the Wall, he'll end up in lands who _are_ under her rule, no questions."

Lord Aragorn nods, relaxing a bit. Jon is still tense, though. "Still, she would not disobey her brother's orders this way. Why does she want me in Winterfell, my lady?"

Lady Meera glances away for a moment before turning her gaze back to him. "It's about the very brother you speak of. Queen Sansa and I have strong evidence that Bran Stark's body is currently possessed by the Three-Eyed Raven that came before him."

"What?", is Tormund's and Aragorn's simultaneous reply. Jon stays silent, but many thoughts come to his mind at the same time.

 _The Three-Eyed Raven that came before him? Bran did say there had been other Ravens before him_ —

 _Bran said, many times, he wasn't really Bran anymore, even if we kept calling him that_ —

 _He barely acted like the (not) brother I knew_ —

"The Three-Eyed Raven", Lady Meera repeats. "Have you ever heard of it, Lord Aragorn?"

He nods. "A legendary greenseer", he says.

"It's no legend", Jon replies. "He's real, and currently the mantle rests on Bran Stark's shoulders."

Lady Meera shakes her head. "Not this time. The mantle of the Three-Eyed Raven was not passed over. Instead, the last one took over Bran's body and is currently in its control. We don't know whether Bran is still there somewhere, or if he died in the process."

Jon inhales sharply. "Why do you think so, my lady? What evidence do you have?"

Meera Reed proceeds to tell him all about her time with Bran, who trained under the previous Raven— _Bloodraven_ , of all people. "He was very old, obviously, and his body was decaying. He wanted a new host for his soul; we suspect a few reasons, but nothing certain."

She then tells the story of how Bran was caught by the Night King while training his powers, and got touched by him. "By all means, he should have been turned into a White Walker, but he escaped that fate narrowly. However, the mark the Night King left on him left him vulnerable to a possession, and Bloodraven took advantage of it."

"How did you come to this supposition?", Lord Aragorn asks, curious. "From the looks of it, you did not realize it right away."

"No, I did not", she admits. "When we arrived in Winterfell, Bran gave me a cold dismissal that left me heartbroken. I couldn't believe this was the same boy I went through so much with—I lost my brother on the journey, and our friend Hodor died protecting us from wights. When I got back home and told me father what happened, he took me to a library where we hold many books about supernatural beings. It's where we found out about possession, and more details on the Three-Eyed Raven. When Queen Sansa told me of her own suspicions, I grew even more certain."

"What were her suspicions?", Jon asks.

Lady Meera sighs. "This, Lord Jon, is something that should be discussed in person with her. That's why I came to _fetch_ you, not just _talk_ to you."

* * *

In the end, Tormund and Lord Aragorn choose to go with him and Lady Meera. "My wife and my son can take care of these lands just fine", the Theen lords says, "and I want to meet the Queen in the North in person to speak to her in my people's name."

Like Jon predicted, a straight journey from the Thenn valley to the Wall takes less than two months—which are completed with the rest of the way to Winterfell.

Sansa is overly happy to see him, forgetting all about property to hug him tightly in greeting—a hug he naturally reciprocates. She greets Tormund warmly, and is courteous to Lord Aragorn, despite her clear surprise at his existence. Claiming they need rest, she postpones their talk for the next day.

After breakfast, she pulls him aside. "Do you trust these two with secrets?", she asks.

"Lady Meera told her story to both of them", he replies. "And I do trust them."

"Alright, then. You are all to meet me in my solar in an hour."

Lord Aragorn is surprised to be invited to such a reunion, but Jon shares his guess with him. "Perhaps she wants you as an ally in whatever she has planned. I doubt she'd summon me to discuss her brother's state if she intended to sit and watch quietly."

Sansa awaits them with a piece of parchment. "I want you to read this, Jon", she says, handing it to him. "It's how my investigation on Bran started. It came to me when I got back from King's Landing."

He unrolls the parchment, only to be greeted by a sweet greeting to… Ser Brienne? _My beloved Brienne_? He immediately jumps to the end, where he sees _Jaime Lannister_ 's signature. "Sansa", he says, "this is impossible. Ser Jaime is _dead_."

Tormund half-gasps, half-roars. "Is this a letter from King Killer?"

Sansa looks at Tormund strangely, then back at Jon. "Keep reading."

He nods and obeys. He feels like an intruder, reading as the man claiming to be the Kingslayer pours his heart out to Ser Brienne, but he soon realizes why Sansa wanted him to read it.

"Are you sure this comes from him?", he asks her after he finishes reading it.

"The handwriting is undoubtedly his", she replies easily. "I've seen it. And how could anyone in Volantis write a letter like this? As far as I know, Ser Brienne knows no one there, and neither do I."

"But that would mean Bran lied."

" _Exactly_. But he's not Bran—and that's the whole point."

It doesn't sit well with him. Jon has a strong urge to deny everything and come up with many alternatives to explain everything—Bran's aloof behavior, this letter, his expressed wish to be king after claiming he could never be a lord…

But nothing that comes to him is as convincing as the theory Sansa presents him. Bran being possessed by Bloodraven explains his behavior and his thirst for power—anyone who knows a bit of Westerosi history knows Brynden Rivers always stayed close to power, be it in King's Landing, be it in the Wall.

"Why would he do that?"

"Our main theory is that he aims for power", Sansa explains. "By fighting on our side against the White Walkers, he earned a hero's reputation, and his powers make him look wise. By saying the Lannister twins died, he told the realm there were no Lannister claimants to the throne. Since the only other House with claim was composed of you—an exile—and Daenerys—who died—the crown was free for him to take it."

"That plan relies too much on chance, though", he says, frowning.

"He can see the future, remember? And Lady Meera and I strongly suspect he can warg into people's minds too. In that case, it would be all too easy for him." She sighs. "But that is a theory. Our strongest one, but we still don't know enough."

"And what, my queen", Lord Aragon intercedes, "do you plan to do about it?"

"He must be taken down", Sansa says firmly. "I still don't know how, but, no matter what I do, I need allies. That's why I summoned Jon. There must be a way to take Bloodraven down without him noticing us too soon. Thankfully, there is a magical barrier in the Neck that refrains him from looking into us in the North, but I haven't visited the godswood since I grew suspicious of him, and we must make it south to do anything of importance."

"Have you done anything at all", Jon asks, "aside from summoning me?"

"Nearly a year ago, I called Ser Brienne for a visit. I did not show her the letter, of course—I don't want to risk letting Bloodraven know the Lannister twins are alive—but I made up a note he supposedly wrote while he was here, saying he loved her and wanted to marry her."

"Just like he actually wrote here", he comments.

"Exactly. I planted the seed on her mind, and I intend to ask 'Bran' to release her from his Kingsguard to join _my_ Queensguard. That way, not only do we get an ally with inside information about him and his court, we'll shield her from his powers—if the Lannister twins do make it back from Essos, there can be a chance for Ser Jaime and Ser Brienne."

"He left her", Tormund says.

"Lady Meera suspects he was manipulated, and I share this suspicion."

Tormund nods. "If it's true—if he truly loves her—the two together could make a powerful team against the Raven, if it comes to a physical fight. I saw them in the Long Night; they fought as one."

"It's not just that", Lord Aragorn adds. "From what I've seen, there are no freshly made couples post-war here."

Sansa nods. "Jon was with Daenerys, who—

"Who I ended up killing", he laments. "You know the story, Lord Aragorn."

He nods, and Sansa continues. "I had wanted to marry a man who was dear to me, but he died in the Long Night. My sister Arya rejected a proposal and sailed to the Sunset Sea. Lady Meera loved my brother, but he dismissed her coldly. Ser Jaime and Ser Brienne were in love, but he left her and has been presumed dead ever since."

"It is possible that this Bloodraven messed up with all of those relationships", Lord Aragorn muses. "Unlike many might believe, love is no weakness, but a strength. In love, we grow stronger. If Bloodraven does want uncontested power, he'd do well in destroying all love between potential adversaries, to leave those who remain behind vulnerable and powerless. Loneliness is a trap, after all."

"You're right, my lord", Sansa replies, nodding. "Does that mean you'll join us in this fight?"

"I do not know how I can be helpful", he admits, "but, if we come up with a plan that may require my people's assistance, rest assured, my queen, we will help you."

She smiles and looks at Jon, who nods. If Bloodraven truly stole his cousin's body, they must bring him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to canon, the Thenns are known for having laws and lords, which would make them more 'civilized' than the Free Folk itself.


	8. King's Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a year and a half serving her king, Brienne receives a letter that changes her world upside down.  
> (Featuring: let's read Jaime's letter for the third time!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting! Yay!

_Ser Brienne,_

_I write to you as your friend and former liege lady. Please keep in mind this is not an order, for I no longer can give you those, but a sincere plea._

_Ser, in these eighteen moons of reign, I have yet to find someone as competent and trustworthy as you to remain by my side, protect me and keep my counsel. Perhaps I expected too much from the men around me, or perhaps I miss female companionship, but the fact remains that you are dearly missed, in many aspects._ _Your brief visit to my home lifted my spirits, despite the heavy conversation we held. I know you might not hold good memories of Winterfell, but, if you are willing, I'd ask you to come back to my service. I promise you, you will want for nothing here._

_I'm sending this letter along with one to my brother, your king, asking to release you from your current vows. It'd be a transfer of sorts, from his Kingsguard to my Queensguard. I pray that he says yes, but only if you accept my offer as well._

_My deepest regards,_

_Sansa Stark, First of Her Name, Queen in the North_

Her heart pounds so strongly in her chest, she's positive it can be heard by anyone who enters her room. Brienne's trip to Winterfell, a year ago, reopened a wound that had _just_ begun to heal (albeit poorly), and it's been bleeding ever since.

For the entire first year of her service to King Bran, she had succeeded in pushing thoughts of Jaime away to the deepest corners of her mind. It helped that no one seemed to dare say his name near her after the king announced that the Lannister twins had been among the victims of Drogon's fire, engulfed by dragon flames. Every time her memories of him tried to crawl to the surface of her mind, she'd shut them out with relative ease. However, as soon as she crossed the Neck, those thoughts came strongly, as if a mental dam had just broken. Her dreams were filled with him, and he was never far from her mind in waking hours. It got exponentially worse when she arrived in Winterfell and was confronted with all the places marked by his presence—his voice, his smell, his laugh, his touch…

Nights were the worst. She had not been assigned to the same room as she once stayed, but it looked similar enough for her to wake up disoriented after a dream and expect to find Jaime by her side. And then Sansa dropped her discovery on her lap.

Her journey back was filled with questions. Why did he not come to her to talk about Cersei, if he wanted her advice? Come to think of it, he rarely mentioned his sister in their conversations. Was he ashamed? Did he think she did not want to hear him speak of her? Granted, deep down she didn't, but she would, if it would help him. Did he not realize she loved him, and would do anything for him?

She lost count of how many times she wanted to say the words to him, to let him know their affair meant everything to her. Whenever she felt brave enough to pour her heart to him, though, something always held her back. Be it her insecurities, be it the feeling it wasn't the right moment, she ended up never telling him—not even when he proclaimed himself to be as hateful as his twin and rode to his death. Why, _why_ did she not run after him? She stood frozen, unable to do anything but cry in anticipatory grief, and then just sat down and waited for confirmation that he died with Cersei.

The few moments she allowed herself to think of him, she did her best to convince herself he had only seen her as a way to warm his bed while he waited to go back to his true love. Yes, he may have desired her, but _love_ was something reserved only for Cersei, the owner of his heart. That's what she told herself for a whole year, until Sansa destroyed all of her carefully built walls.

Fortunately, she was able to push all these thoughts aside once again upon coming back to King's Landing. King Bran has never been able to fill all seven Kingsguard slots, so she never really stopped working. Her meal times were brief, and she barely had time to rest. The busy hours served to occupy her mind and avoid useless reveries—for what is the point of thinking about Jaime, now that he's gone?

So, the idea of going back to Winterfell—to _live_ there once again—is not the most pleasant. Too many memories—not bad at all, except for one, but it's the good quality of these memories that troubles her. She shouldn't accept Sansa's offer. Her life under King Bran's service is a good one. She's useful to the realm, and she has to worry about nothing apart from his safety. His greensight means he can warn her of incoming threats, which makes her job a lot easier. Leaving his service will surely take her off her comfort zone.

 _But you sworn yourself to Sansa first_ , a voice that suspiciously sounds like Jaime reminds her. _Even your oath to Lady Catelyn was bound to_ Sansa _, not to Bran._

 _She's Queen in the North_ , another voice, which sounds like her king's, counters. _She doesn't need your protection like she used to._

 _But she doesn't feel all that safe without you_ , Jaime-like voice insists. _Bran is the one who doesn't really need you. Anyone can deal with threats when they are yet to come to fruition, but Sansa doesn't have that advantage. Are you really going to turn her down in her time of need?_

She sighs, trying to shut both voices down. There is no point mulling over this if King Bran doesn't release her from her vows to him, so she stands up and goes to the throne room.

He's there, just she predicted—after all, she knows his schedule—with Podrick standing at his side. Since the Iron Throne was burned by Drogon, King Bran chose an ornate wheelchair as this personal throne, along with a simple dragonglass crown. Right now, he's holding audience with what remains of King's Landing common folk, along with a few minor lords. She stands by to watch, waiting for it to be over.

Her king is unlike any other she's come across. She never met Robert Baratheon, but she's heard enough of him to know he was a drunkard who welcomed whores into his bed more often than his wife—which made it all too easy for Cersei and Jaime to go on with their affair. King Joffrey was a nightmare, and King Tommen was too young for the role. King Renly was kind, but the years following his death showed her he knew nothing about ruling and was just playing at it; King Stannis meddled with dark magic and became a kinslayer in his quest for power. Queen Cersei was, as her brother put it, _hateful_ ; Queen Daenerys showed promise at first, but ended up as mad as her father; King Jon was sensible, but proved that love is the death of duty when he let his feelings for Daenerys cloud his assessment of her—and so did his half-brother, King Robb, years prior.

King Bran is not like that at all. Dutiful to a fault, he never seems to get distracted by anything—not drinking, not whores, not even a lady to court. When other monarchs would have tried to seize the North back, he seems content with letting his sister rule it uncontested. He doesn't have many friends, but it doesn't seem to bother him. Also, he never fails to get his point across, or to reach a compromise. It is clear in the audiences he holds; no one leaves unsatisfied, even when they don't get exactly what they came for.

Finally, the last person leaves. The king immediately turns to her, gesturing for her to come closer. "Your Grace", she greets. "I come to talk to you over an important matter."

"You received a letter from my sister asking to leave my guard to join hers", he states matter-of-factly—the way he states everything, come to think of it. "She wrote to me with a request to release you from your vows so you can go to her."

"Yes, Your Grace." She kneels before him and lowers her head. "My sword and life are yours, my king; I'll stay if that is your wish. But Queen Sansa claims she'd feel safer with me by her side."

"Tell me true, Ser Brienne, do you wish to go back to her service?"

She inhales deeply. "I swore to protect the innocent, and women and children. Honor compels me to Queen Sansa's side."

"But will you be _happy_ there?"

She squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn't know the answer, because she hasn't thought of her own happiness since Jaime left her. It doesn't matter. "I believe I can be happy serving a good cause, Your Grace, whatever it is."

He hums. "I see. Ser Podrick won't follow you if you go, Ser Brienne. I cannot afford to lose two Kingsguard members. Are you alright with that?"

Slowly, she raises her head to look at her former squire. Podrick looks upset, and his eyes seem to plead for her not to go. _I cannot abandon him_ , she thinks for a moment.

The Jaime-like voice in her mind begs to differ, though. _He's a man grown and a knight. You saw to it yourself. He may want you nearby, but he no longer_ needs _you. Sansa does._

She hadn't been good at denying Jaime anything, and the same applies to the voice that reminds her of him, so she replies, "I trust Ser Podrick to protect you without my assistance, Your Grace. He's come a long way, and his skills and morals are among the best of this realm."

She turns to the king as she says these words, and he nods. "Then I release you from your vows, Ser Brienne, under the condition that you swear yourself to my sister as soon as you arrive in Winterfell. May the gods bless your journey and your new life."

Nodding, she stands up. "Thank you, Your Grace. I won't forget your kindness."

* * *

_Everyone_ in court tries to dissuade her from going. Podrick all but begs, Bronn claims he needs someone to jape with—as if she had ever gone along with his crude jokes—Sam says he will miss her and so will Gilly, Davos says she is the best knight he's ever met and will be missed. Only Tyrion supports her decision, albeit he claims he will miss her as well. "You are the only one who knew my brother for who he really was", he says, startling her with his mention of Jaime. "Although we never really talked about him, your presence was a comfort in my grief. But I won't interfere with your life, Ser."

She bids her goodbyes and rides to Winterfell two days after her release. At first, her journey goes smoothly. She rides as fast as her horse allows her to, though not without stopping at inns—there is no reason for her to sleep out in the open this time. When she crosses the Neck, she's not immediately hit by thoughts of Jaime. However, her peace of mind only lasts until she falls asleep.

_She opens her eyes to see Jaime staring at her with a fond expression that makes her insides twist. Is he still drunk? "Morning", he greets, smiling._

" _Morning", she replies. "What time is it?"_

_He raises his head slightly, as if to look through a window, then turns back to her. "A little before sunrise, I think. Did you sleep well, my lady Ser?"_

_She nods, tightening her grip on her covers. When Jaime rolled away from her and kissed her good night, she turned to the side and covered herself as much as she could. Not only did she fear the cold would get her, she felt horribly exposed otherwise._

_Silence follows. Jaime's gaze is fixed on hers, but for a moment he looks down, as if expecting to see her bare. "What are you looking at?", she asks quietly when he raises his eyes back to her._

_He swallows hard, but the fondness does not go away. "I'm trying to admire the Seven's handwork", he replies, too smoothly to be still drunk, "but_ someone _decided to cover it up."_

 _She feels the heat rising to her cheek. "Jaime, I_ — _there is no need for flattery. I know what I look like."_

_He frowns. "I beg to differ. If you did, you'd let me look upon you."_

" _You were the one who called me 'uglier in daylight' once", she reminds him gently._

_His face falls, and he raises his hand to touch her cheek. "I was a fool back then", he says quietly. "Blind to the things that really matter. I'm not that man anymore. Please, Brienne, trust me when I say you're beautiful in my eyes."_

_Her heart squeezes in her chest. It hadn't been a drunk mistake for him, then. He truly wanted to lay with her last night. Feeling her lips tremble, she nods. He smiles radiantly and moves his hand to her covers. "Then let me see you", he asks again._

_She takes a deep breath and lets go of her covers. He gazes at her with his eyes, his lips, his hand, his stump, his whole body._

She wakes up with a gasp. The dream was a faithful, detailed memory of the morning after her first time. Jaime's words and attitude led her to think her feelings could be reciprocated; it was the first time she considered confessing to him, only to refrain herself from doing so. His last words to her made her forget that morning, but now it seems that she won't be allowed such luxury.

If he had been honest in his secret letter—if he truly loved her—then his behavior made complete sense. Love would explain his lust for an ugly beast of a woman like her. Love would blind him to her flaws and make him see beauty in her. Love would explain his softness, in and out of their rooms. Love would explain why he chose her over all the pretty girls in Winterfell. Love would explain… _so much_.

She lets a few tears fall before standing up and getting ready for the rest of her journey. Will she ever stop mourning Jaime? It's been a year and a half; she ought to move on by now, even if she will never take a husband or have children.

The thought of being a mother brings another memory to surface…

" _Do you have any plans for after this is all over?", he asks her one day. They are not in bed, which is where they hold most of their conversations, but in the dining hall, enjoying breakfast together. They've long stopped trying to hide their relationship; everyone is aware that Jaime Lannister spends his nights in Brienne of Tarth's chambers._

_She takes a sip of water. "Not really", she replies. "What is there to plan? Unless Lady Sansa releases me from my vows, I'm bound to stay here."_

_He hums. "But you don't plan on merely staying as her sworn sword forever, do you?", he asks, and she swears there is something akin to hope in his voice. "Your vows don't exclude you from your titles, nor do they forbid you to marry."_

_She frowns in confusion. "What are you asking, Jaime?"_

_He shrugs. "You are your father's only heir, are you not? You ought to marry and have children then, lest your line dies with you. Even if you stay in Winterfell, you'll be Lady of Evenfall when the time comes."_

_Is he asking her about_ marriage _? Has he forgotten he's the one lying with her every night, and most of the mornings? "Marriage seems… far away", she replies carefully. "I know my duty to Tarth, and I don't intend to ignore it. But first, this war must be over."_

_His face falls, but he nods. "I suppose it's pointless to think over these matters when we don't even know who's going to sit on that damn throne yet."_

At the time, she brushed that strange talk aside, especially since he never brought the subject up again. Now, though, she can't help but wonder if he mentioned marriage in hopes they could talk about _their_ wedding. Sansa said he wrote about wanting to propose; had that conversation been an attempt, then, and she shut him down when saying marriage was 'far away' in her eyes?

In hindsight, it was fairly obvious. The man who'd been pleasuring her for days and days—for he was always keen on bringing her to the edge several times a night—drops the subject of marriage on her lap out of the blue; why else would he do it, if not to offer himself? Why did she not answer in kind, then? Was it fear of rejection? It sounds ridiculous now, but back then… Did she lose Jaime to her insecurities, in the end? Would he have gone back to Cersei, had they wedded in Winterfell? Would he have confided in her about his worries?

Gods, it's useless to dwell on these questions now, but she can't help it. _Perhaps staying in Winterfell for a long time will help me replace memories of Jaime for less painful ones._

* * *

Sansa's first rule is that no important meetings or conversations can be held in the godswood. It confuses her, but she claims it will all make itself known in due time.

Her second rule is… not exactly a rule. "You are not bound to the same vows you made to my brother", she says. "You will remain heir to Tarth if you so desire, and you can marry and have children if you want to."

"I'm not sure I can still be heir to Tarth, Your Grace—"

"Please, call me Sansa", she insists. "We are _friends_ , and you are to stay here indefinitely. I hear 'Your Grace' from practically everyone else; I'd rather not hear it from you too."

"Alright… Sansa." She sighs. "My point still stands, though. Tarth is under your brother's rule, and I'm sworn to _you_ , in the North. It's not viable."

"But your children can inherit Tarth", she replies.

She nods, but… "I'm not sure I'll ever marry, though."

Sansa smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. In fact, her whole body is tense. "I wouldn't speak these words so soon, Brienne. Come here." At that, she leaves her solar. Confused, Brienne follows her, only to end up in her chambers. "Please enter. I'd rather have this conversation behind closed doors."

She obeys, closing the door behind her. "What do you have to discuss, my queen?"

Her queen and friend sighs. "What I'm about to show you… Very few people know about it. Meera Reed and Lord Aragorn of the Thenn, members of my council, do. So do Jon and Tormund—there's a reason he didn't hit on you when you arrived. But no one else knows, for now at least."

She tilts her head. "What does it have to do with Tormund's behavior towards me?"

"Everything", she replies immediately. "Brienne, I apologize… I lied when you visited last year." She moves to her drawer and opens it. "As it turns out, I do have Ser Jaime's letter with me", she admits. It's not what Brienne expected to heart at all, and her heart skips a beat. "I've been safekeeping it since I read it, almost two years ago."

"Why—why did you keep it from me then?" It doesn't make sense. If the letter contained no treasonous plots, why hide it?

"Because I also lied about its origins", she confesses, handing the parchment to her. "I did not find it while cleaning his room. I—well, you'll understand it when you read it.

Carefully, she rolls the piece of paper open, and begins to read. She doesn't make it beyond the greeting— _My beloved Brienne_ —before sitting down on her queen's bed. The handwriting is unmistakable. Most nobles write roughly the same—all taught by maesters with specific ideas of what a good calligraphy should look like—so, when a right-handed man writes with his left, it ends in a remarkable penmanship. Taking a deep breath, she goes on with her reading.

_I write to let you know I'm safe and sound in Volantis with Cersei—_

"Impossible", she blurts out. "Sansa, this must be a jape. Jaime and Cersei are _dead_. How could he—"

She shakes her head. "Your eyes don't deceive you, Brienne", she says softly. "I'll tell you everything I know after you finish reading this letter, but trust me. This _is_ from Ser Jaime."

A sob escapes, but she takes a deep breath and goes back to the parchment.

_First of all, it seems that I've forgotten all of my journey from Winterfell to King's Landing, as well as any plans made beforehand._

What? "He doesn't remember leaving Winterfell?" He doesn't remember leaving her?

"It seems to be the case", her queen replies. "Keep reading."

_Cersei and I decided to sail as farthest east as possible before she gives birth._

Wait, what? "I didn't know Cersei was pregnant."

"I figured you didn't", Sansa replies. "You'd have said something if you did."

She takes a couple deep breaths. If Cersei was indeed pregnant—if Jaime was going to be a father—it was all too easy to understand why he left. Knowing his sister was about to die with their baby in her womb may have awakened some protective instinct.

_My last memories are of seeing you and Sansa talking in the yards. Did we make some plan for me to sneak Cersei to safety until she gives birth? I tried to think of any plausible reason for waking up in a boat alongside her after spending a whole month waking up next to you, and this unborn child is all I've found. Oh, if only I had you by my side to remind me what we planned._

"What memory is this he speaks of, Sansa?", she asks, unable to recall such a moment.

"It was when we received news of Rhaegal's death and Missandei's capture", she supplies. "I taunted him with his sister's impending death—I'm sorry for it, by the way. I fear it might have driven him to… do what he did."

Uncertain of the meaning of her words, Brienne decides that she will find answers in the letter. Jaime's words imply he did not want to be at Cersei's side at all, and he seemed to think he was only doing so because he had planned something with her—probably to ensure his unborn child's survival. _We could have raised this child together_ , she thinks. _I'd gladly help him raise his child, if he wanted me to._ She goes on.

_I do wonder why my memory fails me. I woke up with a bleeding injury in my stomach, but, as far as I know, memory loss comes from head injuries instead, and I've got none of those. Perhaps I've gone away inside? It makes sense that I'd retreat myself in order to face my sister once again, away from you. I don't think I've ever talked about this method of mine in detail to you, have I? I'll tell you when I get back, I promise. It's nothing you should concern yourself with._

Well, she _is_ concerned now. Jaime once advised her to 'go away inside', back when she almost got raped, right before he lost his hand defending her virtue. They never talked about it, but the memory stuck. Was the prospect of seeing Cersei again so terrible that he'd 'retreat himself' in order to do it? From the way he writes, she guesses he's describing some process of disconnecting his mind from the world around him, though she can't be sure.

She sighs and keeps reading. His next words make it clear he doesn't remember his talk with her and Queen Sansa, otherwise he'd know about the dragon's death. Then the end of the letter reduces her to tears.

 _I don't remember telling you this, although I must have, so I'll tell you here and now in this letter:_ _**I love you** _ _, Brienne. Don't let this little quest make you doubt my devotion to you. Whatever this plan is, I'm only here for the child—which, second bad news, is not even mine, but Euron's. As soon as the baby is born, I'll find my way back to you. I wish to marry you, my lady Ser, if you'll have this old, crippled man with no prospects and nothing to give you but his heart._

_I miss you already. Can't wait to get back to you._

_Yours,_

_Jaime Lannister._

She doesn't even try to stop her tears and her sobs. Any doubts that the letter belongs to Jaime are erased when she reads 'my lady Ser'. Only he ever called her that, with an overwhelming amount of affection that she often could not believe that had been the same man who taunted her so back in the riverlands.

She understands now where Sansa's lies came from. He indeed wrote that he loved her and wished to marry her; she just told it in a way that would not reveal that he was still alive. _How dare he say that he has nothing to give me 'but his heart'? How can he not realize how much he's given me over the years, and how dare he belittle his own heart? Even if it was all he had to give me, I'd treasure it forever._

"Please, Sansa", she begs, "tell me all you know."

She raises her head to her queen, who looks impossibly sad. "Of course, but I must warn you, Brienne: it's about my brother. Your former king. He's the one behind all of this mess, and a lot more than you can imagine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cut Sansa's talk to Brienne about Bloodraven because it would have been way too similar to the one she and Jon just had.  
> I posted two chapters today because I have yet to write chapter 9, which covers Jaime's, Dany's and Arya's journey to Westeros. Since it covers almost a whole year, it's bound to be as long as chapter 6, so it may take a while for the next update.  
> EDIT (02.15.21):  
> I'm leaving this warning in all my ongoing fics as I update them: starting this Ash Wednesday (17), Lent begins, going up until March 28th, and I won't read or write fanfic in this period. As the Catholic Church allows us to get reprieves every Sunday, on these days I'll show up again in AO3 and my Google Docs. However, I can't guarantee I'll write entire chapters in one day, so I can't guarantee weekly updates. I might not be able to update some stories at all. I'll still read and answer to comments, just not as often I do today.  
> I ask you to be patient, as Lent is a very important time of the year for me as a Catholic, and I don't plan on breaking it - my time spent with fanfic is bordering on unhealthy, to be honest, so I really need to do this.


	9. Mossovy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the crew makes their way back to Westeros, Daenerys reflects on her past, her present and her future.

As soon as they get in the ship, Daenerys remembers something. "Kinvara", she tells Ser Jaime. "She was on her way here. We must wait for her."

His eyes go wide, and he nods. Arya, who is next to him, frowns. "Who are you talking about?"

"She's the red priestess who revived me", she explains, "and might be able to revive your brother, if he's still in his body and we end up killing him to get rid of Bloodraven."

Lady Arya's face contorts into something akin to grief, but it morphs away into her (seemingly) standard neutral face. "Alright, we'll wait a day for her."

Shiera doesn't return to the docks, and it takes a few hours for Kinvara's ship to arrive. In the meantime, Ser Jaime counts the coins she got for them before quitting her job. "You are _sure_ this is the correct amount", he asks, "aren't you?"

"Of course", she replies. "I worked at that place for half a year. I know how much Westerosi money is worth."

"I'm sorry", Captain Larissa interrupts, "but where did you work for half a year in order to be able to tell how much our coin is worth in relation to the Asshai'i coin?"

She bites her lip. "I worked in a currency exchange house", she begins, aware she will have to explain what that means. "It is a place—"

"I know what you mean by it", she cuts her off. "We've been to one in Nefer and to another in Jinqi. I just didn't expect you'd work in one."

"Because I was once queen?"

"That too", she concedes, "but I was thinking of language restrictions. Unless you speak Asshai'i…"

"I do not", she admits, "but it was rarely necessary. Most people who came spoke languages I understood. Ser Jaime was the one stuck in a job that did not require human interaction."

She remembers envying the man sometimes, particularly when a customer was too rude. However, given the places her mind wandered to when there were no clients, she fears the state of her mind had she been given a job in which she'd spend most of her time in silence, with no one but herself to interact with.

When Captain Larissa turns to ask Ser Jaime about his time as a lamplighter, her mind wanders once again. As it happens half of the time, her thoughts land on Jon. She misses him as if he had been a lost limb of hers—as the Kingslayer would say, like he was 'her sword hand'. Still, she doesn't know what she will do if they ever meet again.

On one hand, she brought death and sorrow to Westeros in her final days. She and her dragons may have played a pivotal role in the Night King's defeat, but afterwards she did nothing good with her power and resources. Instead, she drove her allies and friends away due to a belief they had _already_ turned against her, when the truth was that they believed her until she proved them wrong.

Yes, she knows now this was Bloodraven's job… but would she have been any less bloodthirsty and paranoid without him? Shiera was clear in saying Dany had not been under his influence while in Essos, and she still burned many of her enemies, especially in the siege in Meereen. She got all of the Dothraki on her side not just by her charisma, but also because she killed the competition. The power her dragons gave her had long gone over her head. She was the most powerful woman— _person_ —in the world; why should she refrain from using it? No one else would. Far too late did she realize that, just because everyone else would do it, it doesn't mean it is the right thing to do.

_I fancied myself Aegon the Conqueror reborn_ , she thinks, _but is he truly the ancestor whose steps I want to follow?_ Admittedly, her knowledge on her family's history is biased by Viserys' vengeance-fueled ramblings, but now that she saw the destructive potential of dragons, she wonders if there isn't someone better in her House's history to look up to. _Maybe this crew knows something. Perhaps Lady Arya and Ser Jaime do as well. I could ask them._

Back to the subject… On the other hand, Jon's last act towards her is hard to swallow. While she understands why he did it—hells, _she_ would do the same for less if their roles were switched—the _way_ he did is still hurtful. She had felt so safe in his arms, confident that he understood her, even if he didn't agree with what she did. For brief moments, she envisioned them rebuilding the city together as king and queen—as _equals_ , ruling side by side. She'd grant it to him, if he wanted—and she'd let him be a mere consort, if that was what he preferred.

That he took advantage of her sense of security to unceremoniously stab her… No matter how in the right he was, it stings. Out of everything that happened to her, that action is the one that most feels like betrayal. It's not that he betrayed his Queen—she no longer had the right to call herself Queen of anything but ashes—but he betrayed _Daenerys_ , the woman he claimed to love. The woman who loved him.

_I love him still_ , she remembers. _As much as I loved Drogo, and more than I ever loved Daario_. Her affair with the sellsword had been passionate, indeed, but fueled more by lust than romantic feelings. Still, it inspired loyalty in him, enough that she trusted him to rule Meereen in her stead when she sailed to Westeros. _How is he?_ , she wonders. Shiera never disclosed information on his whereabouts, and she was always afraid of asking.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Ser Jaime warns her of Kinvara's arrival. Her mind briefly goes back to the day she woke up in her temple.

_A cold wind caresses her skin as she opens her eyes, and she quickly realizes she's naked. What happened? Where is she? 'This doesn't look like Winterfell', she thinks, 'or Dragonstone.' Is she somewhere in between?_

_She sits up, cringing at the sharp pain she feels in her belly upon doing so. She vaguely remembers riding Drogon, aiming for King's Landing. In a flash, she thinks she remembers Rhaegal falling, although it could be that he just landed. The more she tries to remember what happened to lead her to this strange place, the more confused she gets. Her memories are all fragmented, not nearly enough to get the slightest idea of her fate._

_Finally, a woman enters the room. At first, she can only see her shadow, but soon she approaches her, and she recognizes her. "Kinvara?"_

_The red priestess looks concerned. "_ Khaleesi" _, she replies. "Are you well?"_

" _Other than a strange pain in my belly, I feel fine. Do you know what happened?"_

" _Not much", she admits. "Almost nothing, actually, but… Drogon brought you here,_ khaleesi _. Brought your_ corpse _. You came to me dead from a stab in your stomach. I barely found the flame of life inside you, and I admit I wasn't sure I'd be able to revive you."_

* * *

They begin their voyage going to Jinqi, an YiTish city Lady Arya and her crew passed by on their way to Asshai. "We need to buy milk for the baby", Evie, who's supposedly a Farman, says. "Since _someone_ did not bring a wet nurse along."

Ser Jaime mumbles something under his breath, holding tight to Gwen. "Sherazade would charge twice her price if I asked her to come along", he defends himself. "I don't have that much money left, especially if we're talking about a whole year aboard, over half of it spent in the middle of the Sunset Sea, with nowhere to land on."

"Babies usually only truly need breastfeeding for their first six moons of life anyway", Sara, a Northern woman, adds. "She's three moons old already. If we make enough stops on our way to Mossovy, by the time we truly reach the sea, she'll be big enough to be fed ordinary food."

At first, some of the crew is against going back to Jinqi, fearing the recent grey plague. Ser Jaime is quick to explain what happened, though, telling a story even Daenerys was unaware of. "Our mentor fought in a decades-long war in the Grey Waste", he explains. "It was against supernatural evils, just like what we faced in Westeros. She's the one who told us Mossovy was free of the demons the place is so infamous for, and that the grey plague was a result of said evil. Now that it's extinguished, we can go around freely."

As they leave the shadowlands, sunlight grows brighter and brighter, to the point both Dany and Jaime resort to spend most of daytime inside their cabins. After half a year relying on artificial light, having the sun imposing itself so greatly is an attack on her eyes.

By the time she grows brave enough to face the sun, docks are already on sight. "Is this Jinqi?", she asks Gerion, a crew member. He nods in confirmation, and she takes her time looking at the scenery before her.

Even at a distance, she can see the differences between those docks and the ones she grew used to. There are no lamps scattered around, and the crowd seemed larger than even the largest one she saw in Asshai. She can see walls raised from seemingly underwater.

"A huge canal", Gerion replies when she points it out to him and asks what it is. "The river runs higher than sea level, creating a waterfall at its mouth. It's small, but still too dangerous for ships to cross it naturally. Instead, they built a large canal with huge cranks that regulate the water level. When a ship comes from the river to the sea, it stops by a wall in the middle of the waterway. The workers lower the compartiment so the ship can continue to the sea. When the ship makes the other way around, they level it up to river level. You'll see it when we leave Jinqi for inland territories."

She doesn't fully understand his explanation, but supposes the sight of it will make it easier for her to grasp the concept. However, instead of going to the canal, Captain Larissa moors the ship as soon as they reach the docks. "Let's not spend money on inns this time", she tells her crew. "We need to save it for food and supplies."

A few people groan—are the inns this good?—but none question her. Dany looks at the captain with a new respect. She had nothing against the Rivers bastard, but had nothing in her favor either. Now, though, seeing how she held authority over her crew, she realizes this is a woman she wants on her side. _On my side for what, though?_ , she asks herself. _I cannot run for Queen any longer. Even if I convince people I was under Bloodraven's influence, nobody will want me to rule the realm after burning its capital. I wouldn't want it in their place. So what is my path after this is over?_

Truth be told, ever since she discussed plans with Ser Jaime and Shiera, she has a feeling she won't live for afterwards. The most likely outcome is a physical fight—the Kingslayer even feared the possibility of fighting the woman he loved, until he found out she quit Bran's guard to join Sansa's—and she's ill suited for it without her dragons. Still, there aren't many people who will be able to make it south for the fight, not with the limited number of shield necklaces available. Shiera advised them to wear it even in the North, for Bloodraven could find ways to break the magical barriers at any moment, so she won't be able to lend it to someone else while she remains in Winterfell. She must go—and, in that case, she fails to see an outcome in which she doesn't die in the fight.

_Perhaps I can be a bait_ , she wonders. _I can act as if I came solely to conquer 'my' throne back, play the role of a vengeful bitch. It would keep the Kingsguard busy, perhaps even Bloodraven as he'd try to manipulate me again. They'd all miss the real threat while they killed me again. Maybe that is why Kinvara was able to revive me; so I could be afforded an honorable death this time._

The prospect of dying again saddens her, but the idea of dying for a worthy cause is a comfort. She doesn't share her idea with Ser Jaime, though; he will likely oppose it. He mourned his sister despite their increasing animosity that marked their last months together; she doubts he'd accept her death when their interactions have been amicable since Volantis—not to mention her help with Gwen.

_Queen Sansa might_ , she thinks, _and so might Lady Arya. Neither of them bear any positive feelings for me, and I'm not politically useful for them. House Targaryen is dead, for all intents and purposes, not meant to rise again in any shape or form. I was only the last of many mad and cruel Targaryens; the best anyone can hope for is for the name to die out. And it will._

Despite Jon's and Ser Jaime's remarks that perhaps she should not trust the words that came from Mirri Maz Duur's mouth about her infertility, years of having sex without her womb quickening settled the belief within her. She got pregnant from Drogo so easily, and never took preventive measures while lying with Daario and Jon. She even asked Kinvara if she had been pregnant at the time of her death; the red priestess merely shook her head.

Jon might have children someday, if he finds love again, but his offspring will never be Targaryen. They'll all be Starks, if not in name then by blood. Jon's only Targaryen trait was his bond with Rhaegal. She can't say his attraction to her was born out of their family's incestuous tendencies; not only he began to drift away from her when he found out she was his aunt, the Lannister twins were proof incest was not exclusive of her House.

She sighs as she follows Lady Arya into the exotic city. There is no use thinking about her future when she might not have one.

* * *

Kinvara pulls her aside when the group begins to go separate ways in the city. "I contacted Daario before going to Asshai", she reveals. "He is to arrive tomorrow."

She shakes her head. "Why did you do that?", she asks. Nearly a year ago, when Ser Jaime asked her why they didn't go to Meereen, she made it clear she didn't find it safe to reveal herself to her supporters in Slaver's Bay. In truth, she had wanted to run away from any responsibilities being alive could bring her. She just wanted to mourn all she lost in Westeros.

"Daario has successfully kept Meereen under control in your name for years now", Kinvara replies. "Despite rumours of your madness coming from Westeros, the city has not fallen back in slavery. Its people still believe in what you brought them—in the values you taught them. They deserve to know their queen is alive and fell victim to sorcery."

"But I don't want to be their queen again", she snaps.

"What do you want then?"

_I don't know!_ She wants to scream. "My wishes don't matter", she says instead. "I must help bring Bloodraven down."

"You might need support in Essos for that", she insists. "Bloodraven's powers don't reach here, but the Oracle's do. If Meereen is aware that you are alive and on your way to destroy an evil ruler, the Oracle can reach to them if she thinks you need extra help."

That makes her stop. "You mean in a war?"

"Who knows what Bloodraven is capable of", she replies. "For all we know, there will be an entire army between us and him. War might be indeed the only way to get to him."

Daenerys sees no other choice then, but to agree to meet Daario when he arrives. "I'll wait for him in the docks with you", she tells Kinvara, who nods.

* * *

When Daario does arrive the next day, Evie points them to an inn whose workers speak High Valyrian. After several moments of distraction by the inn's interior decoration, they sit down and speak—in Common Tongue, as to avoid being overheard by strangers.

"Kinvara wrote to me", he begins, "saying she was suddenly greeted by Drogon carrying your dead body, and she revived you from a stab on the stomach. What happened, my queen?"

She looks down at her fingers. "I'm no queen", she says quietly. "Not anymore." Then she proceeds to tell all about what happened to her, from the moment she stepped foot in Westeros to her stay in Asshai and her discoveries there.

Aside from a brief comment then and there, Daario stays silent as she talks. Only after she finishes does he speak up. "It does seem that you fell victim to sorcery", he hums. "A powerful one. I had heard of the Oracle before, before meeting you, but never gave credit to the stories people would tell of her. I assume you trust her, despite her making it clear that her intentions are selfish."

"I think it's precisely _what_ made me trust her—made _us_ trust her", she corrects, thinking of how the Lannister twins believed her as well. "She wants to use us to fulfill her goal—she never tried to convince us otherwise. But she chose to use us because she believed we had something to gain with the deal as well, and we _do_. Neither Ser Jaime or I would be able to sleep at night knowing Bloodraven is endangering people dear to us, and his sister wanted to fall back into the people's good graces. I think she wanted to take advantage of the situation to rise to the throne again, or at least get pardoned for her crimes. I never asked, and she died on the birthbed."

The grieving feeling that comes to her upon saying those words are odd, to say the least. Her relationship with Cersei had been truce-like at best, and a fragile truce at that. Although sometimes it felt like the former queen would rather see Daenerys than her brother, they never bonded over a single thing, though not out of lack of opportunity and things in common—both of them being former queens fallen in disgrace, both having faced troubled pregnancies, both having been left (physically or emotionally) by men who once loved them, both being among the most harmed by Bloodraven's plans. Cersei chose to isolate herself, however, relying on Shiera and Gwen for support during her pregnancy.

Her death still shook her, though. It had all been so fast, she didn't realize the Lannister woman had died until Ser Jaime failed to find a pulse. She had rushed to the birth chambers as soon as she came back with Gwen, but the baby's head was already visible—which was odd, given the water had not broken. It only broke after the baby was entirely pushed out, and a huge amount of blood followed.

Later, Gwen explained that sometimes the baby would come out before the water broke, which was especially common when labor happened too fast. After Ser Jaime told her this had been her fourth delivery, the woman said, "Your sister didn't stand a chance, then. Her conditions were a recipe for an excessively bloody labor. I'm sorry."

There hadn't even been a goodbye. Cersei's last words were a plea for the labor pain to stop, and the last thing she heard was, presumably, her twin's reassurance that she could do it, as she's done it before. Ser Jaime said she closed her eyes sometime after baby Gwen was born, and she was dead before his niece's first cry.

"It doesn't matter what her goal is, in the end", she tells Daario. "What matters is what we must do. Bloodraven is a threat to the entire realm, and it is our duty to bring him down."

"And afterwards?", he asks, sounding concerned. "Are you staying in Westeros, or are you coming back to Meereen?"

She sighs. "I have no idea", she admits. "I might not even survive the fight against Bloodraven."

"But what if you do?"

"I _don't know_ , Daario!", she snaps. "The people of Westeros will be rightfully wary of me. I will never rule anything there again. But…", she lowers her voice and rests her back on the chair. "I left someone with many things unsaid."

"That Jon you fell in love with?", he asks with a frown. "Who killed you?"

She gulps. "I want to set things right, at least. He never knew the realm me, without Bloordaven's manipulations, and I feel I didn't get to meet the real him either."

As she says those words, she realizes how true they are. Unlike Ser Jaime and Ser Brienne, she and Jon were denied the opportunity to truly know each other. Their affair had been initiated by lust, then grew into love—at least on her part. She knows her feelings for him are real because they remain despite her being free of Bloodraven's mind rape, but she can't say the same for Jon's. What if their relationship had been part of the Raven's plans all along, to ultimately pin them against each other? Shiera never told her that, but she often forgot details of her lover's actions—understandable, given he did so much in the past decades, and apparently she fought a war for a good amount of that time—so it isn't far-fetched to assume she also forgot that particular part.

"Still, you shouldn't stay in Westeros just for him", Daario insists. "I know you love him. If you can forgive one another, try to bring him to Meereen. But, as you said, the Westerosi are unlikely to welcome you back, even if you save them from this evil man. In Meereen, you are beloved. People believe in you and your ideals. Come back after this is all over, and you can build your real legacy." He raises his hand to grab hers. "You look way too lost for my liking, Your Grace. You were not like that all in Meereen. Come back _home_ , my queen, and I'll help you rewrite your story."

She takes a sharp breath. Daario's offer sounds way too good to be true, but she trusts him—she always has, even when it had been foolish to do so. "I'll think about it", she replies quietly. "But, for now… Kinvara's right. We might need help from Essos to defeat Bloodraven, especially if it comes to a war."

He nods, giving her a small smile. "Meereen will fight for you as soon as I tell them you are alive. You have my word."

"I trust you."

He doesn't offer to take her to bed, unlike most of their time together. She has a feeling he has no wish to bed her after she admitted to love another man, and she doesn't know what to think of it.

* * *

Captain Larissa announces their next stop will be the Five Forts. "But we didn't come here through them", one of the crew members, Torrhen, says.

"They are just north of the Bleeding Sea, which we sailed through to come here", she replies. "Besides, the Five Forts are a mandatory stop for everyone who goes to Yi Ti, especially now that they are safe for foreigners."

"Larissa", Arya says beside her, "we have to go back to Westeros."

"And we will, m'lady", she reassures her. "But didn't we agree that baby Gwen should be a bit older when we sail to the Sunset Sea again? A stop at the Five Forts will slow us down just enough for her to grow past the need of mother's milk."

Arya sighs, but agrees. "I wanted to visit the forts too, anyway."

It takes a fortnight for them to reach the place, since they sailed against the river's course, but it's all worth it when the huge forts stand before them. "Wow", she hears Ser Jaime breathe out behind her.

In his arms, Gwen keeps moving forward to touch everything she sees, laughing a bubbling laugh as her uncle tries to get her to stay still. Kinvara—the only member of their group who speaks YiTish—talks to the soldiers, and they are allowed to enter one of the forts, under the claim that all five look the same inside and out—a claim she suspects to be true.

Gwen's antics amuse the men inside the fortress, and they show her—and, as a consequence, to them all—their weapons and personal trinkets. One of the soldiers even gives her a small doll—which, according to Kinvara's translation, belongs to his own daughter, who is waiting for him to return to his home city, Si Qo. Upon hearing this, Ser Jaime tries to return the doll, but he refuses. "He claims to have other things from her", Kinvara tells him.

There isn't much to see inside the tower itself; the best part is the view from its upper windows. It is near noon, meaning the sun is its peak, allowing them to see everything. "The Grey Waste", Captain Larissa whispers in awe.

She bends over a bit to see it better. When she turns to her left, she sees a figure in the distance. "What could that be?", she asks, pointing in the figure's direction.

The captain follows her finger. "It could be K'Dath", she replies. "If I remember correctly, the location fits."

"It probably is", Kinvara agrees. "I've met people from the city. If we go there, we'll probably not leave it anytime soon."

"Why?", Lady Arya asks.

"It's bigger than most YiTish cities", she explains, "which makes sense, given how it is. Also, like Nefer, there is a huge portion of the city that is underground. Even natives get lost there."

"I've heard terrible things about the city", (Lady?) Evie comments, "but I'd guess that Oracle you spoke of got rid of those evils as well." No one knows the answer to her unspoken question, so they leave it at that.

They go back to the ship right after watching the sunset from the top of the tower. Lady Arya informs her and Ser Jaime that they will rest the ship in the middle of its waters, as they did when they first sailed through it.

During dinner, Captain Larissa asks about Gwen's surname. "Her mother was a Lannister", Ser Jaime replies, "and her father was a Greyjoy, so I guess it's either Hill or Pyke."

"Bastard names don't work that way", she replies. "I'm not named Rivers because my lord father was from the riverlands. In fact, my mother told me she fucked many lords the night I was conceived, some of them from the North and others from the West. I'm a Rivers because I was born in the Crossroads Inn and grew up in Harroway's town, regardless of who my father is."

She tells her origin story as if it was nothing. It probably isn't. "Gwen was born in Asshai", Ser Jaime says. "Bastard names don't account for babies born outside Westeros. If I'm to give her a surname, I should wait for us to settle down."

"Which might not happen anytime soon", Gerion counters. "If I got things right, we are heading back to Westeros to fight against an all-powerful king. Who knows when it will be safe for you to settle down anywhere with her? It's better to name her after the place she was born in then."

Willas, a foot soldier from the Reach who lost his left ear _somehow_ during the War of the Five Kings, slams his hand on the dinner table. "Gwen Shadow", he proclaims. "Born in the shadowlands."

"Hey", Evie exclaims, "I like it! It's unique! How many people can say they were born in _the shadowlands_? People in Westeros are taught there are no children in Asshai!"

"Gwen will be the coolest bastard in Westeros with this name", Captain Larissa says, and Arya nods in agreement.

Ser Jaime looks down at his niece, who is sucking milk from a nursing bottle. "Gwen Shadow", he says, as if testing the name on his tongue. "It's fitting. I like it too."

* * *

Mossovy is mostly a dense forest, but they do find locals who speak Dothraki, meaning it's Daenerys' turn to shine. "Our ship needs repairs to endure a trip to Westeros", she explains to a woman they find.

She looks at the ship as if evaluating it, and Dany takes the opportunity to assess the woman's looks. She wears a leather jacket and breeches of the same material, all black. Her hair is just as black, but with blue streaks, and she carries a metallic ring crossing her nose—the sight almost makes her recoil, but she stops herself just in time for the woman to turn back to her. "A trip to Westeros is bound to be long", she says warningly. "There are no islands between here and there."

"We made the trip once", she says. "Our ship can handle it, but we want preventive repairs."

"Very well", she concedes. "I assume you and your crew want a place to stay while we do it?"

"That would be ideal", she admits.

The woman toys with her bright blue spear. "There is a small inn a mile ahead", she says absentmindedly. "None of its workers speak Dothraki, but I'll help you manage. Follow my lead."

She can sense the rest of the group's tension upon following the stranger, but Daenerys sees no other option. Fortunately, they are not led into a trap, and the only danger they face is the one of being tricked into overpaying their one-night stay, which is avoided when Dany recognizes the local coin from her time in Asshai.

"I live in the village across the road", the woman says, pointing out to a small number of tiny houses on the other side of the avenue. "If you need any help, just give my name to any of the workers."

"But I don't know your name", she counters.

The woman blinks. "Oh, I forgot to give it, didn't I?" She toys with her jacket. "Call me Shirayuki."

She nods and smiles. "Daenerys", she says in return.

Shirayuki frowns. "Wait, are you the Daenerys who managed to become _khaleesi_ on her own right and hatched dragon eggs?"

Her eyes widen. "Yes", she replies quietly.

Shirayuki looks at her up and down, seemingly with some sort of respect. "We heard of you during the war", she says, not bothering to explain what war she's talking about—then again, Dany already knows about it. "We wanted to summon you, but the Oracle said your dragons were too young to aid us back then. Where _are_ your dragons, by the way?"

She looks away. "All dead", she replies.

Shirayuki hums, seemingly unfazed. "The Oracle said something about Westeros facing evils of their own. Is it what happened?"

She nods, unwilling to admit that only one of her dragons were lost to the White Walkers, while the second died due to her own negligence and miscalculations, and the third, according to Kinvara and Shiera, ended up commiting suicide by going to the ruins of Old Valyria. "But we dealt with them", she adds.

"Good", Shirayuki replies. "Well, good luck on your endeavors, _khaleesi_. I'll be back when your ship is done."

She doesn't bother correcting that she is no longer a _khaleesi_ , contenting herself with a goodbye.

* * *

Due to the high cost of the inn rooms, Ser Jaime hands Gwen to Dany before going to his shared chambers with other men. "I trust some of them already", he explains, "but not all."

"I doubt any of them would harm Gwen", Sara says, "but I understand your concern. Don't worry, she'll be completely safe with us."

All women get to hold baby Gwen, but since she can crawl now, she is mostly left to her own devices while they talk. After some tale sharing, Lady Arya turns to Daenerys. "What are you going to do when we reach Westeros?"

She blinks. "I'll follow you to Winterfell and plead my case to Queen Sansa", she replies. That's one of the few things she's sure of about her future. "Unless you think it won't work."

"Oh no, no, I'm sure she will accept you when she hears your side, especially if I vouch for you—which I intend to." She grins a bit. "I'll vouch for you and Ser Jaime both. I can see both of you have no ill intentions towards us, and we all need each other in order to bring Bloodraven down."

Her words warm her, and she smiles. "I'm grateful for the vote of confidence. I want to help defeat him too."

"But aside from that", she asks, "what are your plans? I mean, I have the same goal as you, but I also want to get Gendry to forgive me and accept me back. Ser Jaime has Gwen to raise and Ser Brienne to woo back. What about _you_?"

She takes a deep breath and looks down. It's the same question Daario threw at her months ago in Jinqi, but she has as much of an answer as she had back then. "I don't know", she replies. "I know what I _won't_ do. I have no intention of promoting myself as queen again."

"You could still be Lady of Dragonstone", Evie argues. "It's been House Targaryen's seat for centuries, even before the conquest."

"And it was passed to House Baratheon by rule of conquest", she argues. "I may have conquered it back, but for all we know Bloodraven gave it to someone else. I'm not sure I'll be well received there either, given all I've done."

"What about Jon?", Arya asks. "You two were together for some time."

She sighs. "I'm not sure our relationship is salvageable", she admits. "If it is, we can decide where to go together. If not, I'll have to pick a road all by myself."

"What would your options be?", Captain Larissa asks, sounding curious.

"Meereen", she replies instantly. "I still have supporters there. If not there, then one of the Free Cities, or even Asshai. I don't think Westeros is a good option if I don't get back with Jon."

She sees Evie tilting her head. "It all depends on what happens after Bloodraven falls, I suppose", she says. "Either someone will take the crown in his place, or the kingdoms will be divided again. This may change all of our fates."

They talk a bit more, and Daenerys brings Gwen to her bed as they all go to sleep.

* * *

At the end of the next day, Shirayuki comes back with news of their ship being completely repaired. "I suppose you'll need food as well", she says, "especially with a growing baby among your crew", she adds, glancing at Gwen, who's in her lap after she stole her from Ser Jaime. "I know a cheap market."

After buying enough food to last a year, they bid farewell to Shirayuki and get aboard. Daenerys joins Captain Larissa's side as they leave Mossovy's forest to meet the Sunset Sea. Her heart races as she realizes she's finally going back to Westeros—home? Or just another temporary place to stay in?

Such a doubt would have tormented her not so long ago, but now she allows herself to feel hopeful. _I may not survive this fight_ , she thinks, _but I have options for my future if I do. I have something to look forward to, even if I still don't know exactly what. I'll ride with the ride, but I won't let myself sink._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- All locations cited are canon, featured in the book 'A World of Ice and Fire'. Most details are made up, since GRRM gives us next to nothing besides the places' names and reputations in Westeros.  
> \- I realized I had forgotten to share Drogon's fate after he delivered Daenerys to Kinvara! Sorry if any of you expected him to show up again.  
> \- I put all the dialogue I had planned to before they sail into the Sunset Sea because the chapter got way too long (over 6k words!).  
> Next chapter is halfway written already, and might be posted today still!


	10. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne reunite after two years apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! The chapter you were all waiting for is here! If you have diabetes, I recommend taking your medicine now, because this is 80% tooth-rotting fluff!  
> This chapter is M-rated because, well, if Jaime was horny without Brienne around... you can imagine how he gets when he sees her.

They have just sailed into the Sunset Sea when Gwen calls for him. "Papa", she says, waving at him from the ground, in a gesture he knows by now that means she wants him to pick her up. As he follows her request, he fights back tears.

None of his children have called him father aside from Myrcella, and she died shortly after acknowledging him as such. While he never harbored true affection towards Joffrey, he lost count of the times he wanted to tell the truth to Tommen, only to remember his hold on the throne—and, therefore, on his life—depended on the claims that he was Robert Baratheon's son, not his (even though nobody truly believed that, and the Tyrell kept the farce up because it suited them). Not that it mattered in the end, thanks to Cersei's murderous rampage—which, unfortunately, had little influence from Bloodraven to happen aside from a suggestion to use wildfire as a weapon.

Hearing Gwen, his _niece_ , recognizing him as her father is too much. He knows he silently promised her to care for her and shield her from all evils of the world—as a father should—but he never allowed himself to think of her as his daughter. Now, though, the thought is irresistible.

As it happens ten times a day at least, his mind goes to Brienne. He pictures them in Tarth, playing with Gwen, who calls him 'papa' and her 'mama'. Letting his mind wander, he sees a pair of blonde children with blue eyes on Brienne's lap. She then exposes one of her breasts to feed one of them, and he stares at her with love and lust—

He shakes the mental image off as he brings Gwen to their cabin to put her to bath. As beautiful as it is, he cannot let himself wonder about such a distant future when he has no idea whether Brienne will accept him back or not. Will she believe him when he tells her that he was manipulated into leaving her? Will she even let him explain himself and apologize?

As he scrubs Gwen's skin as gently as possible, he wonders if she ever found out about his letter. For all he knows, it never reached Winterfell. Has Sansa read it? Did she believe it? After all, he and Cersei are regarded as dead since the destruction of King's Landing; why would she give credit to a letter signed with his name?

Shiera and Daenerys seem to hope that Sansa received the letter and believed it, for it could mean she knows Bran Stark is not to be trusted, but he's not that optimistic—or rather, he doesn't _want_ to be. The chances of that happening feel so slim…

His thoughts are interrupted by Gwen giggling and calling him 'papa' again. He smiles, and a tear does fall this time.

* * *

After six months, they finally see land. "It doesn't look like Stony Shore", Evie (Farman) remarks.

"No", he agrees, even though he's never seen the place. "It looks like an island."

Captain Larissa frowns. "Either we traveled way too south, and this is one of the Iron Islands", she says, "or we traveled way too north, and this is Bear Island."

"Let's hope it's the latter case", Arya says. "Either way, we must put our shield necklaces on _now_."

He looks down at his own, which he's been wearing for a month, and up to Gwen's earring. He sincerely hopes it ends up being an unnecessary precaution, but another part of him worries. If they are heading to the Iron Islands, who will greet them? Yara Greyjoy, or someone else? Yara had been loyal to Daenerys back then, but who's to say Bloodraven didn't warp her mind enough for her to forget where her alliances once lied?

"Do you think it's safe for us to show up like this?", he asks the former Dragon Queen, gesturing between them two.

"We are both believed to be dead", she replies. "I doubt people will look for Jaime Lannister and Daenerys Targaryen when they look at us."

"You could cut your hair short", Arya suggests, looking at her. Then she turns to him. "And you could shave. You were last seen with a full bear, just like the one you carry now. Most Northerns wouldn't recognize you without it. Also, besides nobody expecting you two to be alive, nobody expects either of you to be carrying a child either."

"You could pose as a married couple", Willas suggests. "The last thing anyone will think when looking at you two with Gwen is, 'Hey, could they be the Kingslayer and the Dragon Queen'?"

He has a point, so he looks at Daenerys, who nods in agreement.

When they anchor, Evie quickly finds out they are indeed in Bear Island. "Apparently, Queen Sansa gave the island to House Flint", she informs them. "Since many of them have been living here for a while."

"It makes sense", Arya replies. "We are not staying here for long. The Flints may easily recognize me."

Indeed, they don't spend more than a day there, and the Stark girl doesn't even leave the ship. However, Tohrren decides to stay behind, handing his shield necklace back to him. "I won't say a word about any of you or Bloodraven", he claims. "Even if he manages to break the Neck's barriers, there won't be any reason for him to get into the mind of a nobody in Bear Island."

He makes an excellent point, so nobody argues. They sail around the island and anchor near a tower. "Westwatch-by-the-bridge", Arya tells them. "Abandoned for decades, if I recall correctly, since the Night's Watch preferred to occupy Shadow Tower instead."

"I thought the whole Wall had crumbled", Daenerys says.

"I thought so too", the young lady agrees, "but clearly, the Night King only bothered with the lands between Castle Black and Eastwarch-by-the-sea. I think we can try to use the Wall as a guide to Winterfell. The moment we see its ruins, we know it's time to head south."

The only other remaining Northerners, Sara and Cregan (a sailor from Sea Dragon Point), agree with her plan, so the rest of them just follow along. It's a long journey on foot, but they have more than enough food, so it's fine. Save from the one time he accidentally walked into two male crew members fucking in the woods—not that he was surprised to see Jakson and Ortis together—nothing of importance really happens in the fortnight they take to reach Castle Black's ruins.

"Hey", Harry, a sailor from Gulltown, says, "did anyone realize _all_ castles were empty? The Night's Watch is really over!"

Arya frowns. "True enough", she says, seemingly more to herself than to Harry. "Then where is Jon?"

Jaime cannot resist the jape. "Probably stolen away by Tormund Giantsbane, wildling style."

To his surprise, Arya laughs out loud and nods in agreement.

* * *

After passing the ruins of Last Hearth, it takes them a sennight to reach Winterfell. Jaime's beard has already grown a bit back, but he doesn't shave it again; what would be the point, if he wants Sansa to recognize him now?

Two men greet them, bowing before Arya when she steps ahead and declares herself. One of them rushes to warn Sansa of their arrival, while the other guides them inside. The Queen in the North comes running outside, asking for her sister. Jaime hides himself among the small crowd, not wanting to draw attention to himself while the two sisters finally reunite.

He can see tears in both women's eyes when they embrace, but they don't talk much before Arya turns to them. "This is the crew that traveled with me across the Sunset Sea and eastern Essos", she says, gesturing to the group. "But there are two people I want you to meet, Sansa. They are particularly important, as they are the reason I'm back."

Sansa's confusion fades away to shock as Daenerys takes a step ahead. "I thought you were dead", she says, almost in a whisper.

"I was", Daenerys confesses, "but I was revived by magic."

Sansa nods slowly, as if processing the information. Arya motions for him to come closer, and he follows. The Northern Queen gasps. "Ser Jaime!", she exclaims. "So you are alive after all."

* * *

As Sansa dismisses them all to rest, claiming they can wait a day before all the important talks, she calls for him to follow her. Guessing this is about Brienne, he asks for Daenerys to look after Gwen. She eagerly accepts the task—sometimes, Jaime is worried his niece will call the Targaryen woman 'mama' at any given moment—and vanishes inside the castle guiding Gwen's steps—she learned to walk while aboard, but her steps grew firmer while they walked by the Wall.

"Brienne is here", the Queen informs him when they are alone. "I left her in the yards. Follow me, Ser Jaime."

Her amicable tone surprises him, along with her reaction earlier. _She must have gotten my letter and believe it_ , he realizes. Yet, he says nothing, waiting for her to speak up again. She doesn't disappoint. "I got your letter shortly after I came back from King's Landing to be crowned", she tells him. "Do you remember what you wrote there?"

"Yes", he replies sincerely. He hadn't thought much of it on his way to Asshai, but when Shiera revealed all those truths, his mind wandered back to his written words often. "Does she know about it?"

"I gave it to her when she took her place in my Queensguard", she replies. "Have you recovered your memories?"

He gulps. "Most of them."

She hums. "I must thank you for writing that letter, Ser", she says abruptly, startling him. "Admittedly, Bran's behavior after coming back to Winterfell always worried me, but finding out he lied to the realm about yours and Cersei's deaths made me realize electing him was the wrong choice, and that he might be dangerous to us all." She glances away for a moment, then back at him. "What happened to your sister, by the way?"

"Dead", he replies solemnly. "She did not survive childbirth."

Her eyes look sad for a brief moment. "I'm sorry", she says, sounding honest.

"Thank you."

She doesn't say another word until they reach the yards and she points Brienne to him. He stops his walk abruptly, freezing as he stares at her. She's dueling a young man, in what seems to be a training session. When they stop, she's breathing heavily, her sweat glimmering even from the distance that separates them.

She's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

"Let me call her", Sansa says, signaling for him to stay where he is as she goes forward to meet her Queensguard member.

She can hear her say that Brienne has a visitor, and that she has the rest of the day free to catch up. It is only when she leaves that his lady ser turns around and sees him. Her mouth hangs open, and she drops her sword—Oathkeeper, he recognizes—walking to him with trembling but quick steps.

When she reaches him, she cups his cheeks with her hands, akin to what she did in that horrible night. "Jaime", she whispers, sounding awed. "You're alive…"

"I am", he whispers back, "and I'm _sorry_ , Brienne, so s—"

She silences him with her finger. "Just tell me true", she says. "Did you leave Winterfell that night on your own will?"

He fights the impulse to ask her why she suspects otherwise, and shakes his head instead. She smiles, and her hand drops to grab his. "Then come with me to my room, and we'll talk there."

He's too stunned to do anything other than follow her.

* * *

"Is this the same room from back then?", he asks as he takes the chambers in. It looks exactly the same.

"No", she replies softly. "Sansa gave me a room closer to her own. It's just that all rooms here look the same."

He nods, suppressing a chuckle, and takes a step closer. "Do you need help with your armour?", he offers, hoping she will accept.

To his delight, she nods, blushing. Silently, he helps her take the armour off, leaving her in an outfit that clutches to her body rather seductively. His mouth goes dry at the sight, but he reminds himself that this is not the moment to lose himself in his perpetual lust for her. He gulps, waiting for her to initiate their conversation.

"Do you remember writing a letter to me?", she asks quietly.

"Yes", he replies instantly. "I remember every word."

"Did you mean them then?"

"Yes", he whispers, "and I still mean them now."

She raises a hand to caress his cheek. "Do you remember leaving?"

He takes a deep breath. "In parts", he admits. "I remember your cries, the way you cupped my face. I remember some of my words I said to you, and some of my later conversation with Tyrion." He raises his own hand to cup her cheek. "But my clearest memory is of my last thought before going away inside completely."

She frowns. "By the way, your words in the letter concerned me. What do you mean by it?"

He sighs. "It's a tactic I've employed since my time serving Aerys." He then proceeds to explain it to her, similarly to what he told Daenerys back in Asshai. "I… was forced to do it in order to leave you", he says finally, unwilling to talk about Bloodraven just yet.

She nods, seemingly understanding. "And what was your last conscious thought?"

He gulps. "I was sitting on the bed, ready to leave, then I turned to you. I saw you sleeping peacefully, and I thought about how beautiful you looked, and my conscience insisted I couldn't leave the love of my life behind. And then… everything blacked out in my mind, and all I remember after that are flashes."

Her lips tremble as she looks deep into his eyes. "The love of your life?"

He nods, stepping closer to her. "I had two years to think about what you mean to me, Brienne", he says quietly. "And my conclusion was that you are the one I was born to be with, my true other half. Cersei was mostly a means to an end—a way to drag me into a position that would leave me unmarried and free for when I met you and fell for you. Had it not been for her, we might have never met—but that is all she was to me. I'm _yours_ , my lady ser. I've been so even before you were born; it just took me a lifetime to see it."

She kisses him then; fiercely, violently, desperately. He kisses her back just the same, trying to pour all the love he has for her through his lips. After gods know how long, she breaks the kiss, only to whisper, "You're the one for me too. I've never stopped loving you, Jaime."

He pulls her closer and kisses her even more desperately. Before he realizes what he's doing, she's naked, and so is he, and they fall on her bed.

* * *

He isn't sure how much time has passed after their kiss and subsequent lovemaking; he guesses it's roughly two hours. "We still need to talk", Brienne says, panting after being driven to the edge countless times, much to his satisfaction—he was still perfectly capable of pleasuring his lady ser.

"I know", he admits, "but I couldn't help myself." He kisses her collarbone, earning a sigh that makes him hard all over again.

"We better get dressed", she says, however, "or it seems that we won't do any real talking." Disentangling herself from him, she sits up, revealing her naked glory. "Stay still while I get dressed." Then she stands up.

He closes her eyes before she can crouch down to get her clothes—before he can see her ass. Time passes by, and he still doesn't hear her dressing up. "What's taking you so long?", he asks.

"As you can see, I can't find my—wait, did you close your eyes?"

She asks that disbelievingly, as if she can't find a reason for him to do it. "That's the only way I can _stay still_ while you're walking around in your nameday suit, Brienne", he admits, feeling his cheeks burn.

He hears her chuckle, and his heart skips a beat. She chuckled and laughed a few times over their month together, and he had missed the sound badly. "Have you always been this horny?"

"I've been without you for two years", he complains. "You may have been able to move on, since you thought I was dead, but by the time we landed on Bear Island I was desperate to get back to you. So forgive me, my love, for wanting— _needing_ —to make up for lost time."

Silence falls, and he fears his words drove her away. Eventually, though, he hears her soft reply. "I understand, Jaime. I've missed you just as terribly."

He opens his eyes abruptly at that, searching for her. She's standing on the other side of the room, holding her small clothes, but otherwise still completely naked. He stands up faster than an eye blink and uses his maimed arm to pull her by the waist, while his hand takes the garment off her hands and throws it to the floor. "Now, now, Brienne", he purrs, kissing her neck, "you can't say things like that and expect me to _stay still_."

"Jaime", she breathes out, her husky voice indicating she's as _horny_ as him. "We _do_ need to talk today."

"Agreed", he replies, biting her earlobe while his hand travels frantically up and down her body. "But I arrived here early in the morning. It's noon at the _latest_ ; we have several more hours to talk. _Right now_ , I need to make love to you again."

Something in his words makes her surrender immediately, and another hour goes by before they are physically able to stop touching and kissing each other.

* * *

Eventually, both get dressed and sit down on the bed. Greedy, Jaime manages to get Brienne to sit between his legs, resting her head on his chest. His arms rest on her stomach, and she has one hand holding his while the other caresses his stump absentmindedly. As always, the gesture warms his insides. "You know", he says when they settle down in their very comfortable position, "this is what made me think that you could love me back for the first time."

"What do you mean?", she asks, not stopping her caress.

"Do you remember our second morning waking up together, the first in which I cuddled you in my sleep?" He feels her nod against his chest. "You thought I was asleep, then caressed my stump in the exact same way you're doing now, then kissed it. I had never _felt_ so loved before, not since my mother's death."

He kisses her temple then, as if to prove his point. From the corner of his eye, she sees her smiling. "You hugged me tighter right after I did it", she comments quietly, "and pleaded for me to stay in bed for a while longer, even though I had to meet Sansa for breakfast."

"And you indulged me", he replies, feeling warmer as he remembers her consent after much prodding.

"I did", she agrees. "I felt loved that morning too", she admits in a whisper, "though it wasn't the first time. In fact", she shifts her position to look directly at him, her knee resting on his hip and the hand that caressed his stump moving to cup his cheek, "when I moved to Winterfell and finally had full access to my memories of our time together… I feel a bit ashamed, to not have realized you loved me back then."

His arm encircles her waist again, pulling her closer. "It wasn't your fault", he says in reassurance. "I never said the words."

"But everything else you said and did spoke of love", she insists. "The way you looked at me the morning after the feast... It was the first time I wanted to confess to you, but something stopped me."

The spell is broken then. _We have so much to talk about indeed._ "Something", he snorts. "You mean Bloodraven."

He expects her to stare at him in confusion, but, even as her eyes go wide, they are as clear as the ocean surrounding her birth island. "You know about him too?"

"Wait, you _know_ about him? How?" He only learned about Bran Stark's true identity thanks to Shiera Seastar. How did Brienne figure it out?

She sighs. "I… Let me tell you from the start." She then proceeds to tell him briefly about her first year serving King Bran the Broken, and how easy it was. How she never faced anyone in real combat, since he always saw threats to his life in advance, essentially turning her more into a spy than a bodyguard. How she barely thought of him, and how easy it was to shake the thoughts off in the few times they came.

"When Queen Sansa invited me to visit", she continues, back to her original position between his legs, "I went alone. Nothing unusual happened until I crossed the Neck. Right after I did, though, memories of you came rushing into my mind, as if I had built a dam around them and it broke at that moment." He kisses the top of her head. Her story fits Shiera's words about a magical barrier in the Neck that blocks Bloodraven's powers. "I cried a few times", she goes on. "Thinking of you back then hurt too much."

"I'm sorry", he murmurs. Despite her clear forgiveness, he has yet to explain to her what truly happened on that terrible night.

"Oh, hush", she replies, and he can hear a smile as she says it. "It gets better, I promise. When I arrived in Winterfell, Sansa told me… about a letter you wrote. Not the real one I have in my drawer, though."

He smiles upon her admission that she still has his letter, but frowns at her words. "What do you mean?"

"She used your words to make another letter up. Oh—did she tell you anything?"

"She thanked me for writing it", he replies. "Said the revelation that Cersei and I survived—that her brother had lied to the realm—was what drove her to realize crowning him might have been a mistake. She did not tell me of Bloodraven, though."

She begins to draw circles on his palm. "She summoned Lady Meera Reed here. She was the only companion of Bran's trip beyond the Wall who came back alive, so she was her most reliable source of information regarding his change in demeanor. She was the one who told her about Bloodraven and how Bran changed overnight following the other man's supposed death. However, she didn't realize Bloodraven had taken over Bran's body until she read about the possibility after going back home. I… I'm summarizing her explanation—I'm not confident about telling all details in a way you can understand. But she's here, as a member of Sansa's council, so..."

"It's alright", he assures her. "I'm sure I can ask her myself tomorrow. Do go on, my lady ser."

She kisses his palm before continuing. "Where was I? Oh, Sansa's made up letter to me from you. She said she found it in your chambers, but dropped it in a water pool when tried to take it to her own room to safekeep it for me."

"How convenient", he says, amused.

She chuckles. "Indeed. Anyway, she said you wrote to me about loving me and wanting to marry me, which matches your actual words, but added that you were feeling guilty about abandoning Cersei, despite everything."

It's his turn to lift her hand to his lips and kiss it. "I was", he admits. "Though not enough to want to leave you, and I was mostly concerned about the child she was carrying."

She hums. "Regardless, her words had the intended effect. When I went back to King's Landing, it was harder to dispel any thought of you—not as hard as it should probably be, which I think it's Bloodraven's fault, but much harder in comparison to before.

"Six moons after my visit, Sansa wrote to me and her brother asking me to be released from his guard to join hers, as she claimed not to feel as safe without me around."

So that's what drove her out of the capital and brought her to safety in Winterfell. He makes a mental reminder to thank Sansa when they see each other again. "I guess it wasn't easy to choose to leave."

"No", she admits, her voice suddenly going softer, "but, in a way, you helped." He doesn't reply, which prompts her to continue. "I was about to ignore the letter when I heard a voice that sounded like you saying that Sansa needed me more than her brother, and that my first oath had been to her, not to him."

He nuzzles against her hair. "I'm glad I was able to knock some sense into you."

She giggles, and it takes all of his willpower not to tear her clothes off and make love to her right then and there. "I don't think Bran—Bloodraven—suspects Sansa is conspiring against him. He clearly didn't want me to leave, but he didn't _force_ me to stay. Podrick didn't want me to go, but just as I was about to take my request off, I heard your voice again, reminding me Pod is a man grown and a knight, perfectly able to protect himself and the king. So I left."

He can't resist showering her face with feather kisses. "My brave, strong knight", he whispers. "Only you would have the power to go against Bloodraven's manipulations."

She briefly turns to capture his lips with hers, and they kiss for a while before she draws away and speaks up again. "You helped", she insists. "Your love for me reminded me there were other important things in this world other than the Kingsguard. Thinking of you made me remember that doing the right thing sometimes required going against the status quo."

 _She's talking about Aerys_ , he realizes. _In a way, she betrayed her king too, even if she wasn't aware of it then. She chose me, and what I thought she should do, over his wishes._ He kisses her lips again, powerless to do anything else. "What happened after you left?", he asks when they part.

"Nothing at first", she replies. "Crossing the Neck wasn't as overwhelming as the first time, but soon enough I began to dream of you." Her eyes dance around his face. "The memory of our first morning came to me in my sleep, and I cried when I woke up. How could—how did I forget the way you looked at me, the words you said to me?"

He caresses her cheek, thinking of the aforementioned morning. "I remember. After—our first time together made me fall even more in love with you. I didn't even know it was possible, but then I woke up before you and—" He inhales sharply. "Two years later, and I still don't have words to describe how it felt to wake up next to you. Everything I said, everything I did, it was all born out of what I was feeling. I loved you hopelessly then, and I love you hopelessly now."

She goes for his mouth again, and they almost crumble on their resolve not to have sex until they talked everything out. As always, it is her who has enough self-control to stop. "Okay, let me finish", she says, chuckling. He chuckles along. "One of the first things Sansa did when I arrived was showing me the real letter. Needless to say, I cried while reading it. Finding out you had loved me and wanted to marry me was overwhelming enough—learning that you could still be alive? That we could have a chance to be together again? It was too much." He tries to imagine how he would have felt in her place, but she kisses his stump and he's too distracted to carry on that line of thought. "Then Sansa told me all she knew and suspected about her brother—or rather, Bloodraven."

"And what are her suspicions?" He's curious now; if Meera Reed already knew his identity, what else did they already know?

"That he manipulated several people in order to rise to the throne", she replies. "We are not sure who, or how. Sansa bets you are one of his victims, though. That he made you leave me and ride to your likely death in King's Landing, then lied to the realm when you and Cersei ended up escaping."

He nods. "I know the answer to that one", he says quietly, "but finish your story first."

"Okay", she agrees. "One of her council members thinks he purposely sabotaged all romantic relationships in order to weaken all possible rival claimants—"

"How could _I_ be a rival claimant, or you?"

She frowns. "Cersei", she says simply. "Had you stayed in Winterfell with me, Cersei would have died in King's Landing and you would be her heir, since she had no more living children." His eyes go wide; he had never considered that. "Had we gotten married, you would be a better choice than a man who can't sire heirs."

"Bran can't have children?", he wonders aloud. He obviously knew his actions had crippled him for life, but that it affected his fertility too…

"According to Sansa and Arya, no", she confirms. "They even said as much in the council that had him elected. Needless to say, the other lords cared little—which might have been his doing, anyway."

He hums. "He could have manipulated us too", he muses. "Used my guilt towards him and my complete lack of desire to rule to have me vouch for him and even abdicate Casterly Rock, leaving it to Tyrion, then retire with you in Tarth. We'd probably be loyal servants."

She shakes her head. "Not according to Lord Aragorn", she says. "He is a firm believer that love is the most powerful driving force in this world. Our love would eventually prevail over his manipulation, and we could rebel against him—not to mention you love Tyrion too much to allow him to suffer if you suspected the king was using him somehow."

He hugs her tighter. She's right, he realizes. "So it would be better to get rid of me at once", he concludes, "and leave you and Tyrion vulnerable." It fits Shiera's story that both his brother and his lady ser accepted roles they would otherwise refuse, thanks, at least in part, to grief.

She nods. "Sansa suspects he messed with Jon and Daenerys too, as well as Arya, and maybe even herself. She claims to get headaches every time she thinks too much over the moment she claimed the North for her to rule."

He hums. Daenerys and Arya often complained about similar headaches as well, and he's felt those himself sometimes—although his worst memories are too blurred to cause his head any real pain. "And does she have any plans to move against him?"

"Nothing concrete", she admits. "We don't know enough. The most information she has is what I gave her regarding my time at court. Our next steps were about learning more about him: how he operates, how this possession thing works…" She sighs. "And that's it for now. Your turn."

He straightens his back and gives her a quick peck on the lips. "My story is quite longer", he warns.

"If you manage to keep your pants on", she says with a teasing grin, "I'm sure you can finish it today."

"Don't tempt me", he whispers, briefly sucking her neck. It does take him a lot of willpower to not ravish her.

* * *

Brienne's reactions vary immensely over the course of his speech. She is surprised to learn Daenerys was revived—which reminds him that she didn't see anyone else's arrival but his. She kisses him fiercely when he tells her about rejecting Cersei for good, which nearly makes his resolve crumble, but he recovers in time.

Her eyes dance with curiosity when he tells her about Asshai, but he decides to share Shiera's revelations before talking about his time in the city. Of course, she's shocked to find out about Shiera herself. "It shouldn't surprise me", she mumbles to herself. "Bloodraven is out there, after all."

"To be fair, it's not everyday we find out historical figures are alive over a century after their supposed deaths", he replies, then continues with his tale.

Brienne silently listens to him recalling Bloodraven's decades-long plan to take the crown for himself, looking troubled by it all. She gives him comforting touches and kisses whenever he mentions something done _to_ him—like when he reveals he did not push Bran out of the window on his own volition—and cries a bit when he says that _she_ was manipulated as well.

"I cursed myself so much", she admits. "Why did I not go after you? Why did I just sit and wait for your death? Did I not love you enough?"

"Don't say that", he replies passionately, peppering her face with gentle kisses. "Bloodraven messed with us all along. Why do you think we never admitted our feelings to each other, even though we spent every possible moment together and thought about it many times a day?" At least, that's what happened to him back then. He could barely spend two hours without thinking about how much he loved Brienne and how much he wanted to be her husband. "He took advantage of our insecurities to make us do his bidding. Does the fact that we got back together right after seeing each other again tell you nothing about our love?" His lips go to her shoulder. "That lord you mentioned is _right_ ; love is a great strength. My love for you is what kept me going for these two years, and your love for me broke you from Bloodraven's spell. So don't you _ever_ diminish your feelings. We are _strong_ together. Always were, always will be."

His words make _her_ resolve crumble, and he cannot resist it when she takes his clothes off.

* * *

They continue their conversation naked and lying on the bed instead of sitting, just like they used to do two years ago—or rather, _he's_ lying on the bed, while _she_ rests on top of him, the way he likes the most.

When he finishes sharing Shiera's revelations, he can see her mind working on solutions, but he distracts her with his kisses and touches. Although they don't go all the way this time, he achieves his goal of driving her mind off strategies and proceeds to tell her about his time in Asshai while waiting for Arya to come to them.

She's incredibly amused by his tales of his time working as a lamplighter—of course, _after_ he explains to her what his former job entailed. She keeps grinning when he tells her about his unexpected friendship with Daenerys, but all mirth dies when the subject changes to Cersei—especially when he reveals his sister died in childbirth. "I'm sorry", she whispers, caressing his forehead.

"It's okay", he whispers back, kissing her nose. "I've done my grieving, and her daughter survived."

"Daughter? You have a niece?"

He nods. "Gwen Shadow."

She blinks. "Gwen _what_?"

He chuckles, and her face relaxes, as if only waiting for a sign allowing her to drop her sad demeanor. "When Shiera revealed she was expecting a girl, Cersei admitted she wanted an unassuming name for when we came back to Westeros. She wanted to disguise herself as a riverlander. Daenerys suggested to name her after the woman who helped us find Shiera when we arrived in Asshai and had assisted her during pregnancy. It was the only time the two of them ever agreed on something, come to think of it."

"I wasn't questioning her first name", she replies, arching her eyebrows. "Why 'Shadow'?"

"Oh, that." He moves his stump from her hip to her waist. "Gwen is a bastard; Cersei and Euron never got married—a bit hard, given the lack of septons in King's Landing at the time. Bastards are usually named either after the place they were born in or the place they grew up in. As Lady Arya's crew members wisely pointed out, there is no telling where Gwen will grow up in the foreseeable future—she might as well hop from place to place, depending on how long it will take for us to defeat Bloodraven. The best choice would be the place she was born in—the shadowlands."

She chuckles. "It does have a nice ring to it", she comments, "although I wouldn't spread it around if I were you."

"Oh, no, she won't be called by her surname until it's safe to reveal her existence to the world beyond the Neck." He looks in her eyes, letting himself drown in the blue of them, and finally adds, in a whisper, "She calls me 'papa'. Has been doing so for months."

She smiles softly, and his heart melts. "Do you _want_ to be her father?"

He sighs. "Yes", he admits. "She may not be mine by blood, but her father died shortly after her conception—by my hands, no less—and her mother died before her first cry. I'm all she has in the world, and for a whole year she was all I could dare hope to have as well. Every time I look at her, I want to do all I wasn't able to do for Myrcella. Does it matter that it wasn't my seed that sired her?"

"It doesn't", she agrees, kissing his chin. "If you still want to marry me… I could raise her alongside you."

He freezes. "What?" It's too good to be true; he must have misheard it.

She blushes, and he fights the urge to kiss her cheeks—instead, he looks down to see whether her blush reaches her breasts (it does). "When I began to read your letter, and you wrote that Cersei was pregnant—before you revealed the baby wasn't yours—the first thing I thought was that I'd gladly raise your child with you if you wished. As you said, Gwen is yours in all but blood. If you want me to… I could be her mother."

His heart skips a beat, and _fuck_ , she's naked above him, blushing, and just admitted she'd willingly let Gwen call her 'mother'. It's too much, and soon they're joined as one.

"Marry me", he says after both reach their climax. "Marry me and be Gwen's mama. Marry me and let me love you for the rest of my days."

"Yes, yes, yes", she breathes out, and _of course_ he makes love to her again after that.

(In fact, they don't talk much for the rest of the day and night. Jaime did not lie when he said he needed to make up for lost time with her.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will take a slightly different approach now that all main characters are reunited. Next, we'll see all of the together to discuss their next steps, while we see other reunions: Jon and Arya, Jon and Dany, more of Dany and Sansa, Tormund and Jaime, and so on. I don't have an exact chapter count outlined, but I doubt this story will reach a 20th chapter (maybe as an epilogue, but not further than that). I might prove myself wrong, of course hahaha


End file.
